This turned out to be a rather awkward list for me to put together.
Not a difficult one: I just took 8 of the 9 top jazz albums from my
annual list, then tacked on Sirone Bang and the big Vandermark 5 box
from only slightly lower down the list than the two I skipped over:
Scott Hamilton and Gerry Hemingway. One consequence is that the list
is very strongly tilted toward the avant-garde. One reason that was
awkward is because I don't normally think of myself as a free jazz
partisan -- I like some things in almost every shape and form, and
try to keep some balance in the Jazz Consumer Guide, but this year
9 of 10 records were well to the left of mainstream. (The exception
is Tommy Smith, doing an exceptionally mainstream set.) So I worry
a bit that I'm turning into a shrew here, but having listened to
more than 500 new records this year, probably 75% of them jazz, I
have to say that this list is where the excitement lies.

The other record I skipped was the Monk/Coltrane At Carnegie
Hall, picked #1 by Davis and Chinen and damn near everyone else
who's put a jazz record on their list. Aside from the big orchestra
at Town Hall, it is probably the best live Monk album ever, and
once Coltrane gets a chance to latch onto a standard it ranks as
one of the few really satisfying early (pre-Giant Steps)
Coltrane performances. So I had no qualms about giving it an A and
featuring it in Recycled Goods, but I didn't include it in my list
because I didn't get anything new out of it. (That's basically why
I skipped over Hamilton, whose album was a more return to form than
anything new.)

Beyond Monk, not much consensus in these three lists. Davis and
Chinen both included Vijay Iyer's Reimagining, which I would
have listed top-30. My only intersection with Davis was Craig Harris,
but most of the Davis list is somewhere on my A-list (Monk, Charlie
Haden, Randy Sandke, Iyer, Sonny Rollins, Billy Bang, Gerald Wilson,
Harris, Roswell Rudd; also in the fine print: Ravi Coltrane, Jim
Hall, Ted Nash, Marc Ribot, Triptych Myth, David S. Ware, Dianne
Reeves). My A-list currently runs to 63 jazz albums (out of 400
rated).

Didn't file a singles ballot this year. I don't listen to singles
except in the context of albums, so don't think of them much. Aside
from Rigby and West, I'd be hard pressed to identify any singles on
any of these uniformly excellent albums.

The breakdown here is: 3 jazz albums, 4 hip-hop (3 underground), 2
world (Mali and Algeria, although France could claim both), 1 Nashville
singer-songwriter. These came from a constantly evolving A-list that
currently totals 106 records, and seems likely to grow beyond 130.
(The 2004 A-list list totalled 97 records when I made a frozen copy
back on Jan. 10, 2005, but subsequent discoveries have extended it
to 119 records.) For once, I didn't just use the top ten. To do so
would have given me 6 jazz albums, which would be fair inasmuch as
that reflects what I've listened to this year -- 63 of this year's
106 A-list albums are jazz. And progressive, given that I believe that
jazz should be taken more seriously as popular music. But having just
submitted a top ten jazz list to the Voice already, I wanted to list
a few things I hadn't mentioned before, even another jazz album --
Granelli, a real delight.

The real problem with these lists is that the short length combined
with the fractured growth of the domain they're selected from is making
them increasingly arbitrary. Back when I voted in the late-'70s it was
relatively easy to pare the list down. But it's not just that there are
more records these days, and that they are harder to compare, it's also
that I don't live with favorite records like I used to. I've been so
rushed this year that aside from Rigby I don't think I've played any
record on this list as much as twice between when I initially wrote
about it and when I started working on year-end list.

A couple years ago I devised a P&J-like poll for contributors
to Robert Christgau's website. I added one wrinkle to the formula,
which was to allow voters to list as many records as they felt like.
Records #11-20 would get 3 points each; #21-30 get 2 points each; any
beyond #30 gets 1 point. The extra points don't have much effect on
the standings, but you get many more albums -- most voters came in
with 20-30 records, with a few like me approaching 100 -- and you get
better data, in large part because you lose the incentive to not list
something you like.

I'm working on year-end comments and a round-up Recycled Goods,
so more on that soon.

Music: Current count 11401 [11394] rated (+7), 828 [814] unrated (-14).
Nominally working on year end lists, which meant a lot of listening to
things I rated earlier and hardly got a chance to play since then. Plus
playing some new candidates, but I've had a lot of distractions, which
kept the counts way down. Jazz prospecting postponed a week.

Balkan Beat Box (2005, JDub): From NYC, a place
where it's possible to bring this mixed bag of Bulgarians, Moroccans,
and Israelis together without gunfire; Big Lazy drummer Tamir Muskat
provides the mostly electronic beats, and Gogol Bordello reeds man
Ori Kaplan fleshes out the box, while guests come and go. A-

Music: Current count 11394 [11378] rated (+16), 814 [820] unrated (-6).
Working on year-end lists, which involves more listening to records I've
already rated than new ones. Mail as been slow and spotty too.

Elton Dean: Just Us (1971-72 [1998], Cuneiform):
Saxophonists in rock bands almost always relate to jazz first, and
Dean's rock band, the Soft Machine, was more than half-way there.
So these sessions are something of a side project. They come from
a historical juncture when England was simultaneously developing
an avant-garde and building on the fusion groove that Miles Davis
and John McLaughlin developed independently and together. This fits
the time -- the underlying rhythm is fusion, especially in Neville
Whitehead's electric bass -- but the horns point outward, especially
Mark Charig's cornet and Nick Evans' trombone. Dean eventually moved
firmly into the avant orbit, so his relative tameness here can be
seen as transitional. An interesting document from interesting times.
B+(**)

A Skaggs Family Christmas (2005, Skaggs Family):
When I want to hear some nifty mandolin, I'm more likely to reach
for some sourpuss like Bill Monroe. Especially come Xmas, when bah
humbug is in the air. This is very conventional, which is the point.
B-

XXL: ¡Ciaütstico! (2005, Important): XX is Xiu Xiu,
L is Larsen. Xiu Xiu is some kind of art-pop band from San Jose --
James (or Jamie) Stewart, Caralee McElroy. Larsen is an Italian
post-rock group -- Fabrizio Modonese Palumbo, Marco Schiavo, Paolo
Dellapiana, Roberto Maria Clemente. Music mixes synths with guitar
and drums, usually to interesting rhythmic effect. Stewart's vocals
are less pleasing -- comparisons to the Cure aren't far off base.
And how surprising is it that the ambient stuff doesn't go anywhere?
Gets better after the first two cuts.
B

With the 7th Jazz Consumer Guide now printed by the Village Voice,
this starts the prospect search for its successor, JCG #8. Top part
are snap judgments, mostly on first impressions. Any grades in brackets
are approximate, subject to further listening/revision. Bottom part are
final grades based on relistening. Going into this round, I have 35-40
records I've put back for further review, while the shelf of new jazz
is relatively bare -- maybe ten, mostly 2006 advances and a couple of
holiday things that invariably bring out the bah humbug in me. I'm
expecting to do one of these per week until the column closes. May
be spotty until after January 1, since I'll be juggling various
year-end tasks until then.

Kenny Burrell: Prestige Profiles (1956-63 [2005],
Prestige): I still haven't come to grips with Legacy's big guitar
box, so perhaps should withhold my generalizations until then.
Burrell is one of several second tier guitarists to come out of
the bop ferment -- the top tier is Wes Montgomery, and everyone
else is arguable (Jim Hall, Tal Farlow, Herb Ellis, Jimmy Raney,
Barney Kessel, Mundell Lowe, Grant Green, Joe Pass). The problem
here isn't Burrell, whose solos are fluid and imaginative. The
problem is Prestige, whose quickie product process did little to
help their artists develop. That hardly hurt for artists like
Coleman Hawkins, Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, Lockjaw Davis, Gene
Ammons, or others who were already on top of their game. But for
Burrell it meant throwing him into the studio with random sets of
musicians, including dominant voices like Hawkins and Coltrane.
This tries to sort out the mess, latching on to cuts with fine
guitar solos, but even selecting for Burrell they're mostly cuts
where everyone takes a solo, even the bassists.
B+(*)

The Red Garland Quintets Featuring John Coltrane: Prestige
Profiles (1957-61 [2005], Prestige): And Donald Byrd, for
the quintessential bebop quintet lineup. Except for one piece with
a different quintet, with Richard Williams and Oliver Nelson. Starts
with "Billie's Bounce," which never sounded more retro. Best thing
here is Garland's own "Soul Junction," with a long intro that lets
you enjoy the piano, before Coltrane enters like he's easing into
a warm bath.
B+(**)

Progressions: 100 Years of Jazz Guitar (1906-2001
[2005], Columbia/Legacy, 4CD): Guitar has always had a problematic
place in jazz. It's been present since the beginning, but hasn't had
a consistent role or focus like other instruments. In part this is
because technology has transformed the sound of guitar more than any
other instrument -- electric amplification, effects devices. But it's
also because most guitar developments took place outside of jazz, so
jazz guitarists often import musical ideas along with the technology.
The idea behind this box is to cover it all, but that's a tough job,
especially as one gets into the home stretch. In the early days guitar
was almost exclusively a rhythm instrument -- so much so that Eddie
Condon and Freddie Green were famous for was never taking solos. The
improvisers were more likely to come from elsewhere -- the first disc
here widens the net to pick up bluesmen Lonnie Johnson and Casey Bill
Weldon, western swingers Leon McAulliffe and Eldon Shamblin, and
notables from the far ends of the earth: Sol Hoppii (Hawaii), Oscar
Alemán (Argentina), and Django Reinhardt (France). Charlie Christian
might have changed everything, but he died in 1942, and his legacy --
bebop-inflected lines cleanly picked on electric guitar -- developed
gradually through the '50s, culminating in Wes Montgomery. The second
disc here covers this period rather loosely, including Les Paul and
Chet Atkins as well as the usual suspects. While the first two discs
make for interesting archaeology, the subject gets messier for the
other two, and the chronology breaks down. The third disc introduces
fusion, again starting with a notable outsider, Jimi Hendrix, followed
by John McLaughlin. The fourth disc recasts fusion into smoother groove
music, with examples including Eric Gale and Larry Carlton. But neither
disc focuses at all tightly. The third includes tastes as varied as
George Benson, Sonny Sharrock, Derek Bailey, John Abercrombie, and
Ralph Towner, while the fourth has James Ulmer, Bill Frisell, John
Scofield and Marc Ribot. So this covers a lot of ground. It's tempting
to add that it also misses much, but that's mostly because the raw
numbers and stylistic variety of jazz guitarists have exploded in the
last twenty years, and it's too soon to figure out what that means.
A box of any other instrument would have similar problems, but guitar
much more so. All this jumping around limits the box's listenability,
especially on Disc 4. But then the box is best viewed as a reference
set, and the 144-page booklet is by far the best thing here.
B+(***)

Bill Evans Trio: At Shelly's Manne Hole (1963
[2005], Riverside): The end of Evans' run at Riverside, with Chuck
Israels and Larry Bunker balancing out the trio. Understated but
clever how they inch around standards as well worn as "Our Love
Is Here to Stay" and "'Round Midnight" without getting predictable.
B+(***)

The Essential Sonny Rollins: The RCA Years (1962-64
[2005], RCA/Legacy, 2CD): Rollins established his reputation in the
late '50s, then stopped recording in 1959. He finally returned to
the studio three years later with an album called The Bridge,
and followed that up with six more LPs in rapid succession. Rollins
left RCA for Impulse, where he recorded three more albums up to 1966,
then he took another leave, not recording until 1972 when he signed
with Milestone. Rollins' RCA recordings have never been accorded much
fame, although they've been kept more or less consistently in print,
and wrapped up in a 6-CD box with the usual outtakes. The meetings
with Don Cherry and Coleman Hawkins reinforced Rollins' status as
a loner, but his quartets with Jim Hall showcased some fascinating
guitar. Lurking in the background is the haunting question of what
Rollins should do viz. the avant-garde -- this was, after all, the
period when John Coltrane emerged as his great rival. But there is
no answer to that question -- despite the later interest of folks
like Ken Vandermark in Rollins' '60s recordings, the great man's
own belated answer was to return to form. This is a useful sampler
of his RCA work, but what makes it so compelling isn't how well it
represents the period -- it's that it consistently finds Rollins'
great voice in a rather mixed bag, and as such redeems a body of
work we've always been uncertain about.
A

Art Pepper: Winter Moon (1980 [2005], Galaxy):
Saxophone-with-strings has been a holy grail, sought by many but
rarely with any success. The problem has usually been the strings.
Charlie Parker and Coleman Hawkins played majestically against
mediocre semiclassical string arrangements. One major exception
is Stan Getz's Focus, where Eddie Sauter's arch-modernist
strings actually steal the show. But no album combines the lush
texturing of strings with saxophone more organically than this
one.
A+

Marian McPartland: Piano Jazz With Guest Teddy Wilson
(1978 [2005], The Jazz Alliance): Of course, it's ridiculous trying
to rate records like this. This is one of McPartland's "Piano Jazz"
radio programs, where she talks shop with a guest, plays a little
piano, has the guest play, does a duet or two -- almost everything
is improvised on the spot. She's been doing this since 1978 -- no
telling how many of these programs she's done, but AMG lists 32
titles up to 2002. That's when Concord slashed their back catalog.
Since then Concord redesigned the artwork and has started reissuing
select old titles, like this one, plus a few new ones, like Elvis
Costello and Bruce Hornsby. Those numbers suggest that they try to
be selective about what they release -- there must be hundreds of
interviews to choose from. However, given the format, this is the
sort of thing that can be fascinating to hear once, but inevitably
becomes distracting to replay. To a large extent, grading records
is an attempt to estimate how much future replay pleasure they may
hold. How valuable these are depends not just on who the guest is,
but on how curious you are about the guest; given how technical the
conversation can turn, it may depend on whether your curiosity is
also technical. That's the sort of thing I can't evaluate at all,
so I tend to grade these things within a relatively narrow band.
Turning to this particular show, from McPartland's first season,
the obvious point is that Wilson is one of the most important jazz
pianists ever, but also that he is a very deliberate and studious
performer. He talks a good deal about Benny Carter, who first hired
him, and Art Tatum, who he was close to before they both moved to
New York. He also talks about John Hammond, Fats Waller, some guy
named Horowitz who plays classical music. He doesn't talk about
Billie Holiday, whose name currently resides on many records that
originally came out under his name, and he doesn't bite on any of
the bait McPartland throws out about his skills as an accompanist.
All that is interesting, as is the piano. I'm glad I heard it. I'm
also glad I didn't have to pay for it, even though at $11.98 list
the label meets you part way. And I doubt that I'll play it again,
unless I have some specific research to do.
B+(*)

Marian McPartland: Piano Jazz With Guest Steely Dan
(2002 [2005], The Jazz Alliance): Usual format, but she's a bit out
of her league here. Donald Fagen and Walter Becker were the most
jazz literate of pop stars, so they come off as knowing more about
her world than she does of theirs. She compensates for that with
shameless flattery. On the other hand, the generation gap is apparent
when McPartland reminiscences about Louis Armstrong and Charlie Parker,
mere idols to her guests. Closes with "Chain Lightning" and "Black
Friday" -- the Steely Dan pieces include bass and drums, for a full
sound.
B

Marian McPartland: Piano Jazz With Guest Bruce Hornsby
(2003 [2005], The Jazz Alliance): Here I'm at a disadvantage, in that
I've never heard Hornsby's records -- got warned off him early, and
never ventured there. As a pianist he gets compared to Elton John a
lot, but the conversation here revolves more around Powell and Evans.
He's very forthright, enthusiastic. His most interesting stories were
about playing with the Grateful Dead. On the other hand, I still don't
have any real feel for his music, and none of his originals here made
much of an impression. Did like his boogie woogie version of "Blue
Monk." Grade is pretty arbitrary.
B-

Marian McPartland: Piano Jazz With Guest Elvis Costello
(2003 [2005], The Jazz Alliance): Costello sings here, playing a tiny
bit of piano at the end. Talks about his father, also a singer. Talks
about how he wrote "Almost Blue" with Chet Baker in mind, singing it
and a couple of Baker's standards. Displays some gratuitous range and
operatic flair. McPartland plays well as an accompanist, but she tends
to bring out the worst in Costello, and the music never steps beyond
slow, gloomy ballads.
B

Diana Krall: Christmas Songs (2005, Verve): I've
read that Christmas records outsell jazz records, a rather appalling
factoid. Hopefully, this record will at least confuse the issue. She's
a terrific singer. The songs are mostly crap. The Clayton/Hamilton
Orchestra fades away toward the end, but they have a lot of fun with
"Jingle Bells" -- enough so that for a while I found myself wondering
whether this was the best Xmas album since Ella. But I gave up that
notion, and don't consider it a subject for further research.
B

Craig Chaquico: Holiday (2005, Higher Octave): The
guitar effects sometimes obscure the songs, which are otherwise pretty
obvious. Relatively painless compared to what's playing in the malls
these days -- but beware that the last song has vocals.
C+

Anita Baker: Christmas Fantasy (2005, Blue Note):
This closes with the non-traditional "These Foolish Things" for a
pleasant note of normalcy after a ride that started by ragging
"Frosty the Snowman" and threatened to expire when "O Come, All
Ye Faithful" got stung by the Yellow Jackets. This is trite fair
for torching, but it doesn't succumb to our greatest fears --
just flirts with the trivial ones.
B-

Dr. John and the Lower 911: Sippiana Hericane
(2005, Blue Note): Mac Rebennack owes his career to the Big Easy,
and here rushes out a quickie to pay a bit back. (Proceeds go to the
New Orleans Musicians Clinic, the Jazz Foundation of America and The
Voice of the Wetlands.) The emphasis is on quickie, with the first
cut (reprised at the end) little more than an extemporaneous moan,
and the bulk of the album filled up by a "Hurricane Suite" that
could have been transcribed from CNN. Not much thought went into
the title either. Graded leniently.
B

Michaël Attias: Credo (1999 [2005], Clean Feed):
Brief bio: born Israel 1968, Moroccan parents, grew up in France,
played violin as a child before taking up alto sax, moved to New
York in 1994, studied with Lee Konitz and Anthony Braxton. Attias
has been a steady sideman downtown, composes, released his "first"
album early in 2005, a fine trio called Renku with John
Hebert and Satoshi Takeishi. Now comes an earlier set, a complex
series of trio, quartet and sextet pieces -- where the later album
is elegant in its simplicity, this one is as tangled as his roots.
He explains these pieces referring to Israel, France and Morocco,
but "Hot Mountain Song"'s fiddle reminds me more of the Ozarks,
and the Torah-based "Berechit" sounds to me, and perhaps to bassist
Chris Lightcap, like old-time Mingus.
B+(**)

Zé Eduardo/Jack Walrath Quartet: "Bad Guys" (2004
[2005], Clean Feed): Walrath has had twenty-some records under his
own name over the last quartet century, but he's largely faded from
sight. A major web retailer only lists four of his records -- none
of the ones he cut for Blue Note and Muse, only one since 1996's
Hip Gnosis. So my first reaction was a welcome back, but
even here, he's on a Portuguese label and the local bassist gets
top billing. The quartet fills out with Jesus Santandreu on tenor
sax, who complements but doesn't compete with the trumpet, and
Marc Miralta on drums -- often the most interesting player here.
This quartet lineup has produced some of the year's best albums,
but they depend on bounds-stretching performances on all four
corners, whereas here the players keep one another in check. Not
bad, by any means, but certainly not as bad as they promised.
B+(*)

Hard Cell (Berne+Taborn+Rainey): Feign (2005,
Screwgun): This came out before the Paraphrase album, but I
didn't get it until afterwards. Both are trios, the difference
swapping Drew Gress on bass for Craig Taborn on piano. This
trio recorded previously on The Shell Game, and on a
couple more albums with guitarist Marc Ducret, so this is a
group that knows its ins and outs. Still, this strikes me as
a typical Berne record rather than an extraordinary one -- it
fractures pieces into abstraction rather than pulling them
together. Could be I just need to give it a bit more time.
[B+(***)]

Deanna Witkowski: Length of Days (2005, ArtistShare):
She plays piano and sings, not the other way around. Her piano has
a rough hewn adventurousness which seems orthogonal both to the
Monk and Ellington pieces here. Her quartet includes saxophonist
Donny McCaslin, whose first-listed soprano is as artful as his
second-listed tenor is robust. On the other hand, her vocals are
perplexing, if not downright annoying. The scats are meant more
for harmony than for diversion. The songs are more ordinary.
B

The Earl May Quartet: Swinging the Blues (2005,
Arbors): A nice little swing quartet led by the veteran bassist,
with pianist Larry Ham and alto saxist David Glasser contributing
a few originals to go with the standards. The title comes from a
Count Basie piece. The balance is neither all that bluesy or all
that swinging -- the group's moderation is much of its charm -- but
Glasser gets to air out his horn on Charlie Parker's "Confirmation"
and Lester Young's "Lester Leaps In." Barry Harris spells Lam on
two tracks.
B+(*)

Bernardo Sassetti Trio²: Ascent (2005, Clean Feed):
My first reaction to this was the relatively useless one, that it
is very pretty. On second spin, I recognize that there's more to it,
including some rough edges of the Monkish persuasion. The superscript
2 appears to mean two extra players added to the piano trio: cello
and vibes. I still don't have any fix on the vibes -- the music is
well to the slow side, which doesn't sit well with the instrument.
The cello, on the other hand, gets a fair amount of space. Don't
know much about any of these people, other than that I've heard
that Sassetti is the label's best-seller, and that a previous
trio album with the same bass-drums shows up in the Penguin Guide
with four stars. I'm impressed, surprised, want to know more.
[B+(***)]

Scott Anderson/Nia Quintet: End of Time (2004 [2005],
BluJazz): Anderson's name is on the spine, but not the cover. He
intends to work his music out within a standing group, but he still
seems to be very much the leader. The quintet is your basic bop
arrangement, with Anderson on trumpet, Daniel Nicholson on various
saxophones and alto flute, piano, bass and drums. Sounds postbop
to me, skillfully turned out, mostly upbeat, with a nice slow one
to close.
[B+(**)]

Joe Fielder Trio: Plays the Music of Albert Mangelsdorff
(2003 [2005], Clean Feed): The Penguin Guide describes Mangelsdorff as
"the virtual inventor of modern German jazz." Following him, German
jazz took a vigorously avant attack in the late '60s -- major figures
in German jazz following him include Alexander von Schlippenbach, Peter
Brötzmann, and Peter Kowald, their scope extending far beyond Germany.
(Schlippenbach's big band was called the Globe Unity Orchestra, and
the English avant-garde, in particular, was joined to the Germans.)
Still, he's virtually unknown in America, and his discography is in
terrible disrepair -- his work in John Lindberg's groups is the easiest
to find, and relatively accessible. So this record is most welcome,
all the more so because the trombone-bass-drums lineup strips his
music down to bare essentials.
[B+(***)]

The Crimson Jazz Trio: King Crimson Songbook, Volume One
(2005, Voiceprint): Back in the '70s I picked up a double-LP called A
Young Person's Guide to King Crimson, but I never made much headway
with it, and barely remember it now. Picked up a couple other albums
too, and again hardly remember them. A couple of weeks ago I got the
two 4-CD boxes of The 21st Century Guide to King Crimson, still
unplayed on the shelf, but at least they've been elevated to the status
of a project. I've long been curious about English prog rock -- back in
the '70s it was something I paid a lot of attention to even though it
often came up with things I didn't much care for. I didn't realize this
at the time, but part of the fascination was how it was associated with
jazz fusion. The central enigma of King Crimson may have been how the
wretched English pastoralism of lyricist-singers Greg Lake and Pete
Sinfield coexisted with instrumental improvisers like Robert Fripp and
Bill Bruford. The boxes may shed some light on that, or just tote up the
differences. This group -- Joey Nardone on piano, Tim Landers on fretless
bass guitar, and Ian Wallace on drums -- is a different way to probe the
sources. I don't have my bearings, but I'll note that as piano trios go
this one is exceptionally dense and moving. Also, I like the bass sound
Landers gets. Looks like a project.
[B+(**)]

And these are final grades/notes on records I put back the
first time around.

Randy Reinhart: As Long as I Live (2004 [2005],
Arbors): A trad jazz sideman at least since 1994, playing cornet
and trombone alongside the likes of Keith Ingham and Marty Grosz,
this is Reinhart's first album as a leader. But really it's a group
effort, and this is quite a group. Kenny Davern, Dan Barrett, and
John Sheridan each make more of an impression than on their own
recent Arbors albums, and guitarist James Chirillo has as many
high points -- maybe Arbors should have given him an album too.
B+(***)

Dominic Frasca: Deviations (2003 [2005],
Cantaloupe/Series Music): Minimalism done on 6- and 10-string
guitar, the improv constructed not from notes but from whole
looping segments. It's been done before on computers, but is
especially attractive with the guitar harmonics.
B+(***)

Mark Whitecage & the Bi-Coastal Orchestra: BushWacked:
A Spoken Opera (2005, Acoustics): One lyric dates from 1776,
addressed to a previous George who also had problems with insurgents;
title dates from 1990, a previous Bush who meddled cavalierly in Iraq
then left the mess to posterity; the rest are clippings from recent
news, including reports on Ashcroft and Jesus; none of which matters
as much on record as the anarchic jazz that swirls around the words.
A-

Dominic Duval/Mark Whitecage: Rules of Engagement, Vol.
1 (2002 [2003], Drimala): Aside from BushWacked,
this is the only other Whitecage album I know, but I suspect it
may be a good place to start with him. Accompanied by Duval's bass,
Whitecage works through a set of exercises on clarinet, alto and
soprano sax that give a good sense of his range and dynamics.
He's an interesting player on the postbop left -- reminds me a
bit of Jimmy Lyons in how he evolves and extends compositional
fragments for improvisation. This is also a good place to hear
Duval -- not a virtuoso, but he's been a workhorse, especially
for Bob Rusch's CIMP label, and gets the last word here with a
bass solo. This has been on my shelf for a while -- I wrote about
it in my 2003 round-up, so it was already a bit old when I started
my Jazz CG in 2004, but I think it would be useful to include it
as an Honorable Mention along with BushWacked. A Vol.
2 came out later, with Joe McPhee in place of Whitecage --
also good, but I prefer this one.
A-

Two numbers struck me in reading about the California execution
of Stanley "Tookie" Williams:

22: the number of years Williams has spent on death row. The
murder he was convicted of dates back still further, to 1979, 26
years ago.

647: the number of people on death row in California. Compare
this to the number of people actually executed in California since
the death penalty was reinstated in 1977: 12; since 2001: 2.

The next guy up on California's death row is Clarence Ray Allen,
a 76-year-old blind diabetic convicted of contracting a murder in
1980. I don't want to delve into the question of whether these
individuals deserve to die. I don't know the details, haven't
weighed the arguments, and don't much care. It's not that I'm
indifferent to the crimes, or sympathetic to those convicted of
them. Williams was convicted of murdering four people, shotgunned
point blank, during commission of two robberies within a couple of
weeks -- a ghastly crime. When I say I don't care, what I mean is
that capital punishment is a state policy -- to evaluate it you
have to look at the state, not at the condemned or their crimes.

That's where these numbers loom large. In California at least
capital punishment has become absurd. The 25 years it typically
takes to execute someone undercuts the relationship between crime
and punishment. In Williams' case it means the person California
executed is no longer the gangster who murdered four people --
he's also a children's book author admired by many for the stand
he's taken against gang violence. In Allen's case it means the
state will wind up executing a sick old man likely to die soon
anyway. The net effect is that the executions can be viewed not
as consequences of crime but as separate crimes committed by
the state in the service of politicians. California Gov. Arnold
Schwarzenegger has play-killed hundreds of characters in movies,
but now he's really killed two people by signing death warrants.

The delays come from several sources. One is due dilligence to
make sure the facts have been properly ascertained and the law has
been faithfully applied. The legitimacy of the state depends on
people accepting that its justice is just, and executing a wrong
person is damaging. Another is that we've gradually increased our
respect for human life, and decreased our deference to the state.
Many nations have given in to the logic of these trends, but in
America popular opinion and political opportunism managed to keep
capital punishment going.

A few years ago I tried to write an argument for a pro-capital
punishment position. I have no real beef with the idea that some
people deserve to be put to death -- it's not like I'm "pro-life" --
although most of the examples I can think of come from the world of
politics, where it's possible to kill on an extraordinary scale.
Given when and where I grew up, the first person I think of as a
mass murderer is Richard Nixon, whose cynical prosecution of the
Vietnam war, including its extension into Cambodia, killed more
or less a million people, not counting the suffering he inflicted
here. On the other hand, once he resigned from office he ceased to
be threat to the world. And while I would have preferred that he be
punished, it's hard to think of any punishment commensurate to his
crimes. Politics turns out to be a tricky matter when it comes to
great crimes, since political power often decides what crime is,
and capital punishment just renders that verdict terminal. More
often than not, such power is used to rid nations' rulers of their
political opponents -- even in the U.S. one can find an example in
the purely political execution of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg.

Aside from the Rosenbergs, most executions in the U.S. are of
common criminals, mostly convicted of murder. Most are poor and
had inadequate legal representation. A disproportionate percentage
are black, which reinforces the perception that the justice system
in America is racially biased. One reason the appeal process is so
lengthy is that the initial trials are often dubious. This, as much
as anything, is because we depend on an adversarial system to seek
justice, but the state's resources far exceed the defendant's. A
recent cartoon summed this up thusly: "a jury trial is when twelve
jurors listen to both sides and pick the one with the best lawyer."
In other words, the courts weigh evidence but don't seek truth on
their own. The result is disputation and doubt. We try to compensate
in the appeals process, but that's subject to politics where one side
seeks to short-circuit the process and the other tries to keep it
going indefinitely. Thanks to the politics, the death penalty is
applied very inconsistently across the nation, which leads to the
sort of absurdity we're seeing in California.

The conclusion I came to was the one that most of Europe and
much of the world has come to, which is that capital punishment
should be abandoned. The argument that finally convinced me is
that it is important that we limit the powers of the state, and
the most basic limit is to deny the state the right to kill. It's
clear to me that politicians cannot be trusted with such power.
Also that politicians who have that power are more likely to use
it outside of the legal system -- Bill Clinton and George W. Bush
got their first taste of blood as governors approving executions,
like Schwarzenegger, before they moved on to greater war crimes.

The death penalty still exists in the U.S. because it's popular
in the abstract even though it's absurd in practice. As Todd Snider
put it, "in America we like our bad guys dead" -- a logic that not
only supports capital punishment at home but favors assassination,
torture and war abroad. Getting rid of the death penalty would mean
that we learn to manage our bad guys, if necessary by keeping them
in jail for the rest of their lives, instead of killing them. It
would take the state out of the death business. It would mean that
politicians can't show how tough they are by signing death warrants.
It would end one obvious proof of racist discrimination. It would
clear up many of the appeals that clog up the court system. It would
simplify what are now capital cases, making them more likely to seek
truth and distancing them from vengeance.

An example of the benefits of discarding the death penalty is
the case of Dennis Rader, aka BTK, here in Wichita. Rader killed
ten people in 1974-91 before finally being apprehended this year.
His crimes are as heinous as those of anyone executed recently. (I
suppose you could make a case for Timothy McVeigh on sheer numbers,
but McVeigh never knew his victims as intimately as Rader.) But he
wasn't tried as a capital case. The trial was short and to the point.
He confessed to the crimes, was convicted and will not appeal. He was
given ten life terms, and will spend the rest of his life in jail.
Case closed.

Rader, and Kansas, lucked out because there was no death penalty
law in force when the murders occurred, and the current law has been
ruled unconstitutional (although rabid right-wing Attorney General
Phill Kline is appealing that ruling; in any case, no one has been
executed in Kansas since 1976, although seven people were on death
row when the law was overturned).

The long awaited 7th Jazz Consumer Guide has been posted by the
Village
Voice. I got off to a slow start on this one, then spent a long
time prospecting, so the ellapsed time since the last one is about
3.5 months. Next one will appear in early February, about two months
from now. Quite a bit of stuff got pushed back, and my prospecting
is well ahead of where it needs to be, so figure the next one is
already half-done, maybe more. Next step will be to do a year-end
list for the Voice -- strikes me as redundant given how much I've
posted thus far, but maybe something surprising will strike this
week.

One thing that's happened this round is that I've done a lot of
reorganizing how I keep track of everything. The Jazz Consumer Guide
master files have been moved to a new
directory. The work files have been
renamed based on series number, and each new work file when finished
will have two adjunct files: one for prospecting, the other surplus.
This cycle I wrote up seven batches of prospecting notes, posting a
batch each week to the blog. The prospecting forced me to write some
notes first time I listened to each new record. If I settled on a
grade, I'd note it, otherwise I'd jot down a rough guess and return
to the record later. The latter case would eventually generate a
new prospect note with a final grade. For this cycle, I made notes
on 212 records. Given leftover, I probably considered more than 300
records for this column. Inevitably, some (well, most) didn't make
it. Some of those will get another shot next time, but let's get
real: by next time I'll have more new records, and the old ones
will just get older. Most won't ever make the squeeze, so having
a surplus file gives me a way to say a few things about them.

The reviews in the surplus file are generally shorter than my
notes: they're meant to sum up and move on. I'll accumulate surplus
reviews as each cycle progresses, then post them on my blog when a
column runs, pruning back to start the next cycle. Not everything
I decide not to use will show up in surplus. If I review something
in Recycled Goods, which is the fate of most reissues, there's no
need to dupe it in surplus. Also, if I post a prospecting note on
a record and feel like that's my final word on it, I also see no
need to dupe it in surplus. One consequence of this is that I
expect that surplus will get shorter in future cycles -- the main
reason it's so long this time is that I'm dumping a lot of albums
from before the period when I started prospecting.

This system doesn't make it easy to find any arbitrary record,
but it does make a lot of information available for those who are
interested enough to look. This will get easier when I come up
with a guide on where to look, and easier still when I finally
stuff all this data into a database. (Don't expect either soon.)
I'm not making progress as fast as I'd like -- probably spending
too much time listening and writing. Aside from the short reviews
in prospecting and surplus, which are meant to be posted on the
blog, my working files have what I call notes, which may be the
same text as the reviews or may be different -- longer, shorter,
whatever. The notes start out in the working file, then move to
a holding file, then eventually get dumped into the notebook.
The notebook is where I keep track of stuff. It includes almost
everything that goes into the blog plus a lot of other stuff
that these days is probably only of interest to me. Under the
new scheme, there are three holding files for notes, which I
call bk-print (the notes for records in future columns),
bk-done (notes on rated records that are still candidates),
and bk-flush (notes on rated records that are surplus). When
I publish a column, bk-print and bk-flush are emptied (except
for hold-overs) into the notebook.

For this week's column, the prospecting notes are
here and the surplus reviews are
here.

The following are the notes for the records included in Jazz CG (#7):

Fred Anderson/Hamid Drake/William Parker: Blue Winter
(2004 [2005], Eremite, 2CD).
In a live recording with four long improvs straddling two discs,
Parker and Drake sound huge, filling up the soundscape with shifting
grooves and potent rumble. In contrast, Anderson's tenor sax is a
model of economy -- no shrieks or splatter, no rutting, just calm,
cogent precision.
A-

Peter Apfelbaum & the New York Hieroglyphics: It Is
Written (2004 [2005], ACT).
None of the pieces here have less than ten musicians, and the total
roll call comes to 26, including some interesting people. Apfelbaum's
own contribution ("woodwinds, keyboards, percussion") is hard to
discern in all the bombast and clutter. Two vocals by Abdoulaye
Diabate are fish out of water, Malian griot vocals on backgrounds
with no distinctive African tableaux. Strikes me as a mess, but
sometimes they make something out of it.
B-

Anthony Braxton: 20 Standards (Quartet) 2003 (2003 [2005],
Leo, 4CD).
Four more CDs from the same tour that yielded last year's 4-CD
23 Standards (Quartet) 2003. The bounty comes from Braxton picking
fresh songs each show -- jazz pieces more often than the usual chestnuts,
with old favorites Brubeck and Desmond most prominent. The pieces stretch
out leisurely, with Kevin O'Neil's deft guitarwork often the highlight,
and Braxton's saxes favoring the high registers. Smart and cool, the most
accessible and simply pleasurable set he's done. (That I'm aware of, anyway.
Braxton's catalog is probably the largest of working saxophonist -- Lee
Konitz, with a two-decade head start, might come close; younger players
like David Murray and Ken Vandermark have approached Braxton's pace, but
not for nearly so long.)
A

The Dave Brubeck Quartet: London Flat London Sharp
(2005, Telarc).
Nice to hear Brubeck in a quartet again. Bobby Militello is the one
stuck trying to fill Paul Desmond's shoes. While he doesn't have the
sheer beauty of Desmond's tone, he partly makes up for it with his
sprightly dynamics.
B+

Will Calhoun: Native Lands (2005, Half Note, CD+DVD).
Don't know when these cuts were recorded, but the constantly shifting
cast suggests not all at once. Comes with a DVD which I haven't
viewed, but that might explain more. Meanwhile, hope it doesn't cost
you extra. (Looks like it doesn't.) My problem with this album is that
it spends much time showing you all the things Calhoun can do instead
of building on a few things that really work. But maybe that means I
just wish he had kept Pharoah Sanders around for more than five cuts
-- Sanders leads off the first four cuts, and the album never hits
that level again. The rest are mostly stripped down beat pieces, with
Wallace Roney playing Miles on a couple; Antoine Roney's soprano sax
and Gregg Marret's harmonica are the only other lead
voices. Fascinating album. Maybe I should look at that DVD.
B+(***)

Bill Charlap/Sandy Stewart: Love Is Here to Stay
(2004 [2005], Blue Note).
A very subdued make-out album, modelled perhaps on the Bill Evans/Tony
Bennett album, but less so -- far less. Credit Charlap's lead billing
to the marketing folks -- he barely plays, but then Stewart sings so
measuredly that she leaves him little to work with. Stewart has a
touch of opera in her voice, an instant turn-off for me, but your
mileage may vary. As usual, a great song, like the title tune, lifts
the interpretation, but anything less reduces to affect.
B-

Tom Christensen: New York School (2005, Playscape).
Christensen's compositions draw inspiration from the circle of poets
and painters around Frank O'Hara, but that tells you nothing about
the music. He writes for pairs of reed instruments, mostly matching
timbres rather than looking for contrasts. He's joined here by Walt
Weiskopf and a bass/drums combo that keeps things moving as he and
Weiskopf work their way up and down the equipment rack. The tenor
sax duel is the liveliest, but the interplay fascinates even when
they draw flutes.
A-

Anat Cohen: Place & Time (2005, Anzic).
Nat Hentoff, in his liner notes, compares Cohen to Ben Webster, which
on the surface seems preposterous. She plays soprano sax and clarinet,
as well as Webster's tenor sax, so her tone and dynamics have to spread
out more, but even on tenor she never even suggests Webster's trademark
vibrato. But this album does have the sort of rough-hewn beauty that
came as naturally to Webster, at least in his later/sadder years, as
breathing. But Cohen's roughness comes differently, perhaps from Israel,
where the mix of old and new semitic and western musics lies unsettled
beneath the surface. Ever since Coltrane soprano sax has suggested the
orient, while the post-Byron resurgence of the clarinet has injected a
dose of klezmer into jazz discourse. Those traditions, more than the
lore of the tenor sax, are at work here.
A-

Marc Copland/John Abercrombie/Kenny Wheeler: Brand New
(2004 [2005], Challenge).
With no bass and no drums, nobody's in much hurry to get things done.
Rather, they discourse, three masters going about their business, each
with a distinct style and set of interests. The closer, "Taking a Chance
on Love," is especially lovely.
B+(***)

Ernest Dawkins' Chicago 12: Misconceptions of a Delusion
Shades of a Charade (2005, Dawk).
"We're not here to create disorder. We're here to preserve disorder."
The variation on Boss Daley's 1968 malaprop is thematic to this 35th
anniversary celebration of the Chicago 7 trial. Recorded live in Paris --
no date, but 2003 would account for 25 years -- by a large group with
a lot of baritone sax and brass, speachifying from the black power era,
and a roughly rambunctious "Watermelon Man" thrown in the for the hell
of it.
B+(***)

Herbie Hancock: Possibilities (2005, Hear Music).
This time Downbeat put my Dud of the Month on the cover
before I called the shot. In some ways it's unfair: this is not
a jazz record by any stretch of the imagination. Hancock has been
overrated since 1973 (Headhunters) or maybe even since he
left Miles (1968), and hasn't produced an A-list record (that I
know of, and I know of a dozen that aren't) since Empyrean
Isles in 1964. Of the has-beens and wannabes on the cover --
how much did that cost 'em? -- the worst are back-loaded (Damien
Rice & Lisa Hannigan, Raul Midón, Trey Anastasio), but only
slightly worse than the mid-section stars (Paul Simon, Annie
Lennox, Sting). Jonny Lang & Joss Stone are kinda cute, but
Christina Aguilera singing Leon Russell takes has-been wannabe-ism
to highly improbable levels. Some facts from the Downbeat
article: over 9,200 Starbucks stores, sold over 750,000 copies
of Ray Charles Genius Loves Company (out of 5-6 million
worldwide, as I recall), with a customer rate over 33 million.
The stores are mostly small, the music kiosks smaller. Not sure
how many titles they carry -- two dozen seems a stretch. Clearly,
the multiple names thing, a variation on the duets thing, means
cross-marketing. It's business, and it's probably not the end of
music, but it bodes ill anyway. And while I keep wanting to write
that it's not awful -- what I really mean is that Hancock's not
awful -- it does suck.
C

David Hazeltine: Modern Standards (2004 [2005],
Sharp Nine).
Bacharach and Mancini, let alone Leonard Bernstein
and Steven Sondheim, don't exactly strike me as Moderns. Nor are
the Beatles and Bee Gees and Isley Brothers cutting edge. Nor is
the bold march beyond Johnny Mercer necessarily a good thing.
But few of these concerns matter much for a pianist as deft as
Hazeltine. He's a superb mainstream pianist, and he keeps these
songs light and lively. This is one I've been sitting on the
fence on for a long time now, and it's still on the cusp.
B+(***)

Gerry Hemingway Quartet: The Whimbler (2004 [2005],
Clean Feed).
I like this as much (maybe more) as the Dennis Gonzalez record I picked
as a Pick Hit, and held this one back partly because it might be next
column's Pick Hit, but also because it is so fundamentally similar to
the Gonzalez album: same label, same lineup (substituting Ellery Eskelin's
tenor for Oliver Lake's alto sax). The difference is the drummer, most
of all that Hemingway creates a more intriguing rhythmic foundation for
his pieces. There are points when this could be taken as a groove record.
A-

Gerry Hemingway Quintet: Double Blues Crossing (2002
[2005], Between the Lines).
Whereas Hemingway's Quartet on
The Whimbler hums along with a steady beat and playful
expression from the two horns, this one is darker in mood, lighter
in sound, and stranger in the mix. The two horns are pitched
farther apart, with Frank Gratkowski on clarinets and alto sax
and Walter Wierbos on trombone. Kermit Driscoll has less pulse
at bass, even though, like Mark Helias, he plays both acoustic
and electric. The fifth instrument here is Amit Sen's cello, an
unusual choice. The songs, especially five-part title suite,
tend to come apart in spacious abstraction, but they don't all
stay there, and several patches cook furiously.
B+(**)

Billy Jenkins: When the Crowds Have Gone (2003-04
[2005], Babel).
Jenkins' previous foray into the blues featured his Blues Collective,
but this time he must be feeling way down, as he's gone solo. With
just acoustic guitar, harmonica, his voice more ragged than ever, he
moans and cries, the closest thing to his usual wit being the title
"Sitting on the Dock of Ebay." That's also about the only thing that
moves this out of the era of Blind Lemon Jefferson and Blind Willie
Johnson -- that plus not even the Lord's much comfort. When the crowds
have gone, you're left alone.
B+(***)

Hank Jones: For My Father (2004 [2005], Justin Time).
A delightful little piano trio, with George Mraz and Dennis Mackrel.
Light touch, easy swing, not as boppish as he was fifty years ago,
but he has no need to prove himself -- enough just to be himself.
B+(***)

Mike Ladd: Negrophilia [The Album] (2004 [2005],
Thirsty Ear).
I'm torn on how to rate this album. Compared to Ladd's previous
In What Language? this is neither as clear lyrically nor
as lucid musically, but in other ways it is an admirable step
forward in his ambitions. The source is an exhibition in Paris
on Negrophilia, at least as expressed by the Paris intelligentsia
in the early 19th century. In Anglo-American imperial culture
racism is pretty straightforward, a brew of fear, revulsion,
and blinkered arrogance. The French are certainly not lacking
in arrogance: their current ideas on how best to police the
former third world are something to worry about not least because
they show better sense than the U.S. But the words here focus on
more obscure matters: the chic appeal of "les negresses," the
harsh chant of "banana." The music itself is chopped up and
pasted back together, the flow of Andrew Lamb's reeds, Roy
Campbell's trumpet, and Vijay Iyer's piano broken into odd
bits. Guillermo E. Brown had much to do with the music here.
B+(***)

Mizell: The Mizell Brothers at Blue Note (1972-77 [2005],
Blue Note): the best of the worst of a once-great jazz label on
its death bed -- Blue Note folded in 1979, to be revived as EMI's
jazz brand name in 1985 -- organized as a tribute to producers
Larry and Fonce Mizell; forgettable funk and lightweight disco,
every cut with vocals, most with Donald Byrd trumpet; note that
the only cut with any meat on it was previously unreleased (Gary
Bartz, "Funked Up").
C+

Sunny Murray: Perles Noires Vol. I (2002-04 [2005],
Eremite).
This is the first of two volumes of duos-plus between the
veteran free jazz drummer and saxophonist Sabir Mateen. Only one cut
is actually a duo. Dave Burrell (piano) joins on four, and his block
chording on "Three Is a Crowd" is the best thing here. Louis Belogenis
(tenor sax) and Alan Silva (bass) join for two cuts, including a tasty
"Lonely Woman." Mateen's thankless job is to riff frantically, while
Murray gets to dazzle. A very long trek through rough terrain, worth
listening to, but wearing. And this one is only the start.
B+(**)

Sunny Murray: Perles Noires Vol. II (2004 [2005],
Eremite).
More, much more. Aside from Murray and Sabir Mateen, in
their expected roles, the guests are Oluyemi Thomas (bass clarinet
and c-melody sax) on four cuts and John Blum (piano) on the other
three. Thomas provides a greater contrast as a second horn than
Louis Belogensis on the first one. Blum roughly approximates Dave
Burrell's performance on the first volume. The two volumes are
evenly matched, hard to choose, although I'd rather arbitrarily
pick Vol. I for the real Burrell.
B+(**)

Paraphrase: Pre-Emptive Denial (2005, Screwgun).
Alternatively, the artist's own names also
grace the front cover -- Tim Berne, Drew Gress, Tom Rainey -- so
one could file this under Berne et al. and construe Paraphrase to
be part of the title. On the other hand, the record could hardly
be more clear. Two long group improvs, distinguished from most
such inventions by a relatively steady pulse, with Berne mostly
working inside a cage framed by Rainey's drums. The pieces ebb
and flow, with minimal sections of solo bass, and maximal power
when all three play flat out. I've been slowly warming up to
Berne over the years -- a Julius Hemphill disciple who stayed
true, in the past he's often made music ambitious beyond his
reach, but his recent stretch of records have grown more measured
and more focused as a result. This is the best one I've heard,
a possible pick hit.
A-

Enrico Rava: Full of Life (2002 [2005], CAM Jazz).
Rava's recent records all have a similar elegiac quality: tasteful,
economical, graceful. This strikes me as the best of the bunch, but
the distinctions are subtle. The most important one is the contrast
provided by Javier Girotto's baritone sax.
B+(***)

Dianne Reeves: Good Night, and Good Luck (2005, Concord).
"Music by and inspired by the motion picture," which
she had a small part in -- nothing plotwise, just atmosphere.
The inspiration expands five songs into fifteen, picking up a
broad swath of '50s pop, played not for nostalgia but for context
and atmosphere. The decade of American triumphalism was still
haunted by ghosts past and present, where the deepest of TV
journalism struggled heroically to just barely scratch the
surface. I'm still ticked off at the bowdlerized "TV Is the
Thing This Year," but even it is good, and "How High the Moon,"
"Pretend," "Solitude" (maybe the best version I've ever heard),
and "One for My Baby" are considerably better than that. Also
adore Matt Catingub's tenor sax on the instrumental "When I Fall
in Love." Still barely above the cusp. Sometimes I slip an A-
album into the Honorable Mentions, and that's what I plan to
do here. Partly because I mentioned Reeves in my Mary Stallings
piece -- they are similar singers, and I give Stallings the edge
for reasons that illuminate the contrast -- and partly because I
say what I want to say in the short context.
A-

George Russell and the Living Time Orchestra: The 80th
Birthday Concert (2003 [2005], Concept Publishing, 2CD).
This is a little oversimplistic, but the original emergence of a
jazz avant-garde in the latter half of the '50s -- i.e., before
Ayler, before Coltrane flipped out, before all that other '60s
revoltion -- can be traced to four singular musicians: Charles
Mingus, Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor, and George Russell. (In
retrospect, Steve Lacy might have been a fifth, but at the time
he was associated with Taylor.) Russell is the least well known
of the four (or five): more composer than pianist, more theorist
than composer, he moved to Europe and only sporadically appeared
with recordings bearing little resemblance to anyone else's jazz.
But he made it to age eighty, and here finds himself fêted by a
superb big band as they work through two of his longer pieces,
plus fragments of two more, plus his arrangement of Miles Davis'
"So What" that turns into the perfect vamp for introducing the
band. Marvelous music, breathtaking sweep. Possible pick hit.
A-

Jenny Scheinman: 12 Songs (2004 [2005], Cryptogramophone).
She has quickly established herself as a versatile violinist working
everywhere from ROVA to the Hot Club of San Francisco, but she flashes
little of her virtuosity here. She makes her mark developing folk songs
into luminous textures, shaping her melodies but leaving it to others
to buff up the highlights -- Ron Miles' cornet, Doug Wieselman's
clarinets, Rachelle Garniez's accordion and piano, but most of all
Bill Frisell's never more shimmering guitar.
A-

Mary Stallings: Remember Love (2004 [2005], Half Note).
Without stopping to count them, there must be at least six distinct
types or niches of jazz singers. Like Billie Holiday (but not Ella
Fitzgerald), Dinah Washington (but not Sarah Vaughan), and Carmen
McRae (but not Betty Carter), Stallings is a classic black pop singer,
her jazz credentials limited to interpretive grace, ye olde American
songbook, and good taste in musicians. She opens and closes with one
of Washington's signature songs, and sparkles on everything mid-tempo,
while keeping a respectful distance from the slow ones. Geri Allen
herds the musicians, and she can call on a choice horn anytime she
wants the effect -- Frank Wess, Vincent Herring, Wallace Roney. As
neatly done as I've heard in years by this particular type of jazz
singer.
A-

Ralph Sutton and Dick Cary: Rendezvous at Sunnie's 1969
(1969 [2005], Arbors).
Sutton was the postwar era's nonpareil stride pianist, so he offers
little here that hasn't already been demonstrated many times. So focus
on Cary, who cut his teeth on piano with Louis Armstrong and trumpet
with Eddie Condon. Here he sticks to trumpet and alto horn -- looks
like a miniature tuba -- adding a wizened, soulful voice to Sutton's
flashy little trio.
A-

The Vandermark 5: Alchemia (2004 [2005], Not Two, 12CD).
Five nights in Krakow, two sets each night, plus a couple
of jam sessions, every note preserved. In theory one can plot out
the variations in multiple takes of songs, or pick up the first
performances of three new pieces that reappeared later in The
Color of Memory, much like critics claimed you could do with
Miles Davis' Complete Live at the Plugged Nickel. But more
likely you'll just pick discs at random and savor the rough and
ready excitement each one brings.
A-

The Vandermark 5: The Color of Memory (2004 [2005],
Atavistic, 2CD).
It's tempting to assert that this could have been edited down to a
superior single disc release, but harder to figure out where to
cut. Certainly not the longer pieces on the second disc, which start
and end with muscular sax, while the longest piece spreads out. The
first disc is harder to get a handle on. The ballad pieces feel
unfinished, and the idea of jamming the late greats -- Ray Charles,
Elvin Jones, Steve Lacy -- into one is a bit of a rush job. Part of
the reason may be the announced departure of trombonist Jeb Bishop, a
charter member, and replacement by cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm -- a
different cat altogether. This album may be shaded more toward Bishop,
although it's hard to be sure. More certain is that this one doesn't
have the tight, spin-on-a-dime snap of the previous two -- largely
made possible by the growth of Dave Rempis. Which makes this one more
ordinary, but in the end there's something impressive in every piece.
A-

The following are the notes from the bk-flush file. These records
are no longer under active consideration for Jazz Consumer Guide.

Juhani Aaltonen Trio: Mother Tongue (2002 [2003], TUM).
A bit old, with at least two subsequent records available from Aaltonen,
but for now we'll track it here. Powerful, searching movement on tenor
sax, straining at the limits of the instrument. At least two cuts on
flute nearly match the experience, all the harder to do. Impressive
record.
A-

Juhani Aaltonen, Reggie Workman, Andrew Cyrille: Reflections
(2003 [2004], TUM).
This replaces the Finns with two famous Americans,
who are worth following anywhere. Aaltonen plays more flute here, which
I'm inclined to discount, but he plays it with rare authority.
A-

Juhani Aaltonen and Henrik Otto Donner With the Avanti Chamber
Orchestra: Strings Revisited (2003, TUM).
This refers back to a 1976 collaboration between Aaltonen and Donner
called, you betcha, Strings. Donner composed the pieces, and
his Avanti Chamber Orchestra lays down the strings, which Aaltonen's
trio (Reggie Workman, Andrew Cyrille) work around. The strings are
thick and heavy, the sax dilligent. Not having heard the predecessor,
my framework for comparison is Focus, the Stan Getz classic,
possibly the only sax-plus-strings album ever where the strings were
as interesting as the sax. This comes close, for much the same reason.
The strings are dark and swirling, casting shadows everywhere. The
sax has to work harder here, but Getz could make anything look easy.
B+(**)

Ahmed Abdullah's Ebonic Tones: Tara's Song (2004 [2005],
TUM).
Four of five band members are Sun Ra alumni, the exception being the
youngster of the group, baritone saxist Alex Harding. Abdullah played
trumpet for Sun Ra from 1976 on, and here he sings two Sun Ra lyrics
that sound like they were channeled from far out in space. The other
key players here is violinist Billy Bang, who plays a supporting role
but in his spots is one of the best things here. The opening Gigi
Gryce piece and the "Blue Monk" in the middle are delightful upbeat
pieces, with more difficult matter -- including two of Abdullah's
originals -- sandwiched in between. Closer is a rousing "Iko Iko" --
which after the Sun Ra sounds positively pop.
A-

Eric Alexander & Vincent Herring: The Battle: Live at
Smoke (2005, High Note).
Presumably the model is Jug and Sonny,
but Herring's alto is short of weight and tends to slip into the
tenor's harmonics. Surprisingly, Alexander doesn't seem to be up
for the challenge either. The semi-slow one doesn't develop much
juice. Pianist Mike LeDonne plays fast, taking several leads.
B

Buyu Ambroise: Blues in Red (2004, Justin Time).
As a saxophonist Ambroise strikes me as the Stan Getz of Haiti, as
opposed to, say, Jacques Schwarz-Bart, who's more like John Coltrane.
Of course, the standards are a bit lower, as I've just exhausted my
encyclopedic knowledge-base of Haitian saxophonists. But Ambroise
has a bit of Getz' tone, and he can enjoy a melody. Accompaniment
is heavy on piano (Frederic La Fargeas) and short on percussion
(although there are some guests to do that sort of thing). The one
vocal is distracting. I've gone up and down on this, but it doesn't
stay up long enough to make a compelling case.
B+(*)

Paul Anka: Rock Swings (2005, Verve).
The concept here is simple enough: take rock songs and arrange them for
big band. That explains half the title; "swings" is a problem of a
different sort. Sure, big bands from the '30s up into the '50s were
primarily swing bands, but just being big had nothing to do with swing,
and this record proves as much. Strictly speaking, it doesn't prove
that it's impossible to swing Bon Jovi or Van Halen, but it sure ain't
easy. Pieces from R.E.M. and Nirvana and the Pet Shop Boys don't work
any better. Anka is a proficient singer, similar to Bobby Darin but
less fun. Don't know who's in the band, but I imagine Lawrence Welk,
after the fizz has left the champagne.
C+

Atomic/School Days: Nuclear Assembly Hall (2003 [2004],
Okka Disk, 2CD).
Yet another two band Vandermark mash-up. Atomic is a Norwegian band led
by Fredrik Ljungkvist (sax), Magnus Broo (trumpet; both also in Firehouse,
a somewhat more rockish free jazz band) and Kjell Nordeson (vibes), with
Havard Wiik (piano), Ingebrigt Baker Flaten (bass), and Paal Nilssen-Love
(drums). School Days is led by Vandermark and Jeb Bishop (trombone), also
with Baker Flaten and Nilssen-Love. Wiik has also previously played with
Vandermark in Free Fall. So one difference here is that it doesn't double
up on bass and drums. Each member of the group winds up with one song.
B+(**)

Gilad Atzmon & the Orient House Ensemble: Musik
(2004, Enja).
The German spelling bespeaks a destination in old Europe, pre-jazz
and pre-rock, perhaps a world where cosmopolitanism was undimmed by
nationalism, where capitalism hadn't been trivialized into consumption,
where socialism still had faith in a future where it offered more than
a few modest reforms to patch up cracks in the present. Problem is,
this vision is so strange today that it winds up sounding like mere
circus music. Atzmon's soprano sax has visceral impact, but the vocal
pieces seem like distractions. Justin Time has balked on releasing
this in North America, which could mean that they understand it well,
or more likely that they are even more confused than I am. I think
Atmon's painted himself into a corner. It will be interesting to
see where he pops out next time.
B+(*)

Gregg August: Late August (2003 [2005], Iacuessa).
Bass player, writes all the pieces, plays one as a solo, one as a duo,
one with guitar and drums, the rest with a crack quintet, joined once
by Frank Wess. Mainstream with a latin twist; the group swings, the
spotlight pieces less so. Good stuff, as far as it goes.
B+(**)

Albert Ayler: New Grass (1968 [2005], Impulse).
This was Ayler's r&b move, heralded as revelation by Ayler
himself in the opening "Message From Albert," hated by pretty
much everyone else. One thing it's not is a sellout. Pretty Purdie
and Bill Folwell may keep strict 4/4 time, but Ayler plays as
furiously and as ugly as ever -- the juxtaposition is the most
pleasing thing here. On the other hand, it does cede a lot of
ground to girlfriend Mary Parks, aka Mary Maria, whose vocals
dominate the second side. Another record along these lines,
Music Is the Healing Force of the Universe, followed
before Ayler's untimely and rather mysterious death. I regard
this as one of many experiments at the time to form a bridge
between avant-jazz and black power street politics. As the '70s
wore on, that movement faded into oblivion, but when this was
cut it was just gathering steam.
B+(*)

Billy Bang: Sweet Space/Untitled Gift (1979-82 [2005],
8th Harmonic Breakdown, 2CD).
Bang, a nickname William Walker picked up as a teenager, played a
little violin in school but didn't stick with it. He got drafted
and shipped to Vietnam for a harrowing year in the jungles. He got
back and found that many of his friends had fared even worse back
in the Bronx. Confused, haunted, he found solace in avant-jazz --
Coltrane, the AACM. He picked up the violin again, moved downtown,
dived into New York's emerging "loft scene"; he got some pointers
from pioneering avant-jazz violinist Leroy Jenkins, and some ideas
from Ornette Coleman's own violin experiments, but mostly taught
himself, coming up with a sound all his own. This is a reissue of
two of his early, self-released albums -- slapdash affairs where
excitement and good cheer abound. The first is a septet with Frank
Lowe leading a trio of horns in vamps and variations, with Bang
taking a few horn-like violin solos. The reissue adds a second
set, doubling up on the first. The second album is a quartet with
pocket trumpeter Don Cherry, making for more intense interplay in
a more structured musical context -- including two compositions
by Coleman. Bang comes through much more clearly -- the advances
in his sound, style and confidence are striking. As is a superb
performance by drummer Dennis Charles.
A-

Billy Bang: Vietnam: Reflections (2004 [2005],
Justin Time).
This is Bang's second Vietnam album, a sequel to Vietnam:
The Aftermath. While the former did a wonderful job of picking
up elements of Vietnamese music and weaving them into Butch Morris'
conduction, the focus there was on the American soldiers and the
bitter sensation of war. Bang's violin made it all work: its taut,
lonesome, biting tone characterizes the music of the Far East. This
one moves forward. Oliver Stone's trilogy of Vietnam movies starts
with one about American soldiers in the war, then follows one after
the war into the antiwar movement, then returns to Vietnam finally to
acknowledge the other side of the story. In moving from Aftermath
to Reflections, Bang introduces Vietnamese singer Co Boi Nguyen
and dan tranh player Nhan Thanh Ngo, adding to the authenticity, but
more importantly to the healing.
A-

Denys Baptiste: Let Freedom Ring! (2003, Dune).
This is a big band album, a little longer in the string instruments than
in the brass. Baptiste plays tenor sax, but he doesn't stand out much.
Rather, he leads the group, and the group as a whole swings hard through
four long pieces with political points but not a lot of political content.
The latter comes from Ben Okri's infrequent bits of poetry, and is much
appreciated.
B+(*)

Gato Barbieri: Chapter Four: Alive in New York
(1975 [2005], Impulse).
Like many live performances, this one picks up speed as it progresses,
eventually delivering on its Coltrane to cha-cha-cha promises. Like
many live performances, it's also thinner sounding than its studio
predecessors.
B+(*)

Cheryl Bentyne: Let Me Off Uptown: The Music of Anita O'Day
(2005, Telarc).
I'm willing to accept Jack Sheldon doing the Roy Eldridge bit, but
frankly I'd rather hear the originals, for Gene Krupa as well as O'Day
and Eldridge. Sure, I'll take Bill Holman over Billy May any day --
May's always been a poor match for O'Day, and consequently a lot of
O'Day's standards work got buried in May's bombast. O'Day was small
physically, but had a big voice and a lot of sass, which I've always
figured could have been put to better use in smaller groups. Bentyne
is enough of a flirt to almost carry this off -- songs like "I Won't
Dance" and "Let's Face the Music and Dance" are light enough to work,
and a ballad like "Skylark" is pretty enough to escape comparison.
But I guess the temptation to rev up the production was too much to
resist. Too bad. I'd like to encourage Bentyne's moonlighting,
especially given how miserable her day job with Manhattan Transfer
is.
B

Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers: Drum Suite
(1956-57 [2005], Columbia/Legacy).
The first third is the first of several African and/or Cuban
multi-drummer experiments, and not much comes of it -- proof is that
the most memorable contribution is pianist Ray Bryant. Second third is
a Messengers group with Bill Hardman and Jackie McLean. Third (the
bonus) is a slightly earlier lineup showcasing Donald Byrd, with Ira
Sullivan in the sax chair. Blakey never made a bad record in his first
decade at the helm of the Messengers, but it's the bonus cuts that
save this one.
B+(*)

Erin Bode: Don't Take Your Time (2004, Maxjazz).
She put her least attractive photo on the cover, probably because she
figures that what counts is what's inside. Covers, of course: these
days all interpretive singers are bagged as jazz, even though there's
nothing much jazzy about her. She takes all of the songs slow: the
Beatles, Bill Monroe, Bob Dylan, Cyndi Lauper, Stevie Wonder, plus
some songbook stalwarts. High lonesome violin marks the Monroe, and
Steve Nelson vibes touch up the Wonder -- those are probably the
high points, but closing with "Count Your Blessings" was a stroke
of genius.
B+(**)

Richard Bona/Lokua Kanza/Gerald Toto: Toto Bona Lokua
(2004 [2005], Sunnyside).
Universal is an apt name for the world's
largest music business, even though the name came from a movie studio
first Bronfman then Vivendi picked up. They're everywhere, but the
main office is in France, and Universal France manages to release a
lot of music that Universal's many tentacles in the US fail to pick
up. Sunnyside is one of the labels that looks for attractive scraps
left on Universal France's table, which is where they found this one.
It's not jazz, although AMG wasn't being ridiculous when it reminded
them of Bobby McFerrin's multitracked vocal projects. I was thinking
more in terms of South Africa's mbube, but that's not right either,
and not just because Bona plays a wide range of instruments. With all
three singing, there's more interplay here, not just layering, which
gives it a light feel. Toto and Lokua are from Africa -- Cameroun and
Congo (I'm guessing the ex-French colony, not the ex-Belgian one)
respectively. Bona was born in Paris with roots in the Caribbean,
which means Africa too.
B

Anthony Braxton/Matt Bauder: 2 + 2 Compositions
(2003 [2005], 482 Music).
Not a lot of action here. Bauder plays saxophone and clarinet, as does
Braxton. He also contributes two compositions, matching Braxton. Hard
to tell them apart. The record as a whole is decorated by notes -- dots,
let's say (actually the title of a Bauder piece) -- with nothing much
to connect them. That leaves a puzzle of some interest, but it has to
be limited, since the demand on the listener's cranium to put all the
pieces together excludes most of us. On its own terms, though, not
without interest or pleasure.
B

Zach Brock and the Coffee Achievers: Chemistry
(2005, Secret Fort).
Brock is a violinist, and that tends to bias the music in certain
ways -- e.g., toward a bit of tango. The bass-drums-keybds are thickly
layered, so the music tends to move as one. When it works it can be
compelling, otherwise it can be annoying. Vocals add to the complication,
but afterwards seem to be an afterthought. I disliked this at first,
but came to like it more/less. Still don't know what to make of it.
B+(*)

Paul Brody's Sadawi: Beyond Babylon (2004, Tzadik).
Post-postmodern klezmer, as Brody takes the works of Ben Goldberg, Frank
London, David Krakauer and others as starting point to push even further
afield. Still, it stays closer to the klezmer text than Steven Bernstein,
Jenny Scheinman, and others in Tzadik's Radical Jewish Culture series.
B+(**)

Bucketrider: Guignol's Band (1998, Dr. Jim's).
This is a rockish avant-jazz band from Australian, led by trombonist
James Wilkinson and saxophonists Adam Simmons and Timothy O'Dwyer.
They have a half-dozen albums. I've worked through three of them,
and they're an interesting, brainy, daring group who make messy
records that I can't quite bring myself to love. This starts with
a piece of screech, then moves on to some impressive postrock roll.
Despite its rough spots, this may be their best record -- at least
the best I've heard. Given how old this one is, not a real JCG
candidate.
B+(***)

Bucketrider: Le Baphomet (2001, Dr. Jim's).
Similar in tone and construction to the previous Guignol's Band,
but nothing here pushes the envelope far enough for amazement. Just a
good, solid record, a complex of sounds with some propulsion.
B+

Bucketrider: L'Événements (2004, Dr. Jim's).
The booklet doesn't explain much more than that the events referred to
date from May and June 1968. Since the titles are in French, I assume
that we're talking about the student revolts in Paris. Many of these
pieces refer back to movements in the arts and politics: surrealism,
dada, situationism, anarchism, etc. All of this tempts one to think
of this as some sort of soundtrack. The pieces switch between soft
scratches that do little and harsh noisefests that also do little but
much it much more loudly. There's enough worthwhile material here to
convince me that this is still an interesting group, but this isn't
the place to try to figure that out.
B

Alex Bugnon: Free (2005, Narada).
Bugnon plays a happy piano, and the snappy beat of the title cut and a
few more is down right infectious. However, this slips a notch on
occasion when the electronics of his sidekick Phil Davis get the upper
hand. Then it merely sounds like what it's spozed to: smooth jazz,
just a knick better than average.
B

Katie Bull: Love Spook (2004 [2005], Corn Hill Indie).
Singer with a strong backing group (including Joe Fonda, Frank Kimbrough,
Matt Wilson). She works hard, stretching and teasing at the songs --
some as well worn as "My Favorite Things" and "Surrey With the Fringe
on Top," a few originals like "Leftover Blues" which argues that Chinese
is always better the next day. That's dead wrong, but the song just seems
to be a foil for the singer, so maybe profundity isn't the point. But if
technique is, that doesn't offer much.
B-

Bull Fonda Duo: Cup of Joe, No Bull (2005, Corn Hill Indie).
I didn't care for Katie Bull's last album, but this one works better.
Part of this is that the alternation of standards with originals keeps
her close to solid songs, which she pokes and prods but ultimately
lets stand on their own. The accompaniment is just Joe Fonda's bass,
which adds a warm resonance without interfering with the vocals.
B+(*)

Greg Burk Quartet: Carpe Momentum (2002 [2004],
Soul Note).
Just what you'd want in a really contemporary state-of-the-art jazz
session. Burk is a first rate pianist, able to fill in or take the
lead with equal aplomb. Jerry Bergonzi has a warm, distinctly human
sound on tenor sax, keeping everything on an even keel. Bass and
drums complement as expected. This could be a desert island disc.
And maybe given the concentration being on a desert island would
provide, I might then be able to zone in on the craft and smarts
for its own sake, instead of my usual search for cheap thrills.
B+(**)

Greg Burk Trio: Nothing, Knowing (2003 [2005], 482 Music).
Burk is a young pianist who plays dense, difficult chords, and this trio
with veterans Steve Swallow and Bob Moses is wound tight, threatening at
any point to explode. Moses, in particular, seems to be having a ball.
B+(**)

Kenny Burrell: Prestige Profiles (1956-63 [2005],
Prestige).
I still haven't come to grips with Legacy's big guitar
box, so perhaps should withhold my generalizations until then.
Burrell is one of several second tier guitarists to come out of
the bop ferment -- the top tier is Wes Montgomery, and everyone
else is arguable (Jim Hall, Tal Farlow, Herb Ellis, Jimmy Raney,
Barney Kessel, Mundell Lowe, Grant Green, Joe Pass). The problem
here isn't Burrell, whose solos are fluid and imaginative. The
problem is Prestige, whose quickie product process did little to
help their artists develop. That hardly hurt for artists like
Coleman Hawkins, Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, Lockjaw Davis, Gene
Ammons, or others who were already on top of their game. But for
Burrell it meant throwing him into the studio with random sets of
musicians, including dominant voices like Hawkins and Coltrane.
This tries to sort out the mess, latching on to cuts with fine
guitar solos, but even selecting for Burrell they're mostly cuts
where everyone takes a solo, even the bassists.
B+(*)

John Butcher/Mike Hansen/Tomasz Krakowiak: Equation
(2002 [2003], Spool/Field).
Hansen's credit is "record players" -- presumably he's the one who
laid down the static noise that forms the backbone of two suites based
on physics equations. Butcher's saxophones and Krakowiak's percussion
never change the texture of the material -- any way you slice it, this
remains high concept/low yield noise. Not my thing, really, and even
less likely to be yours, but this is one of the few such albums that
holds my attention. Not sure whether that makes it a success for its
type, or a failure.
B+(*)

François Carrier Trio: Play (2000 [2004], 482 Music).
Recorded live in a tour of Canada. This is my kind of album, an edgy
saxophonist in a minimal setting.
B+(***)

Sara Caswell: But Beautiful (2004 [2005], Arbors).
Caswell is a young violinist, well schooled both in classical and
jazz -- her parents are both musicologists, and her sister Rachel
sings on three cuts here, plays cello (but not here), etc. Songlist
doesn't fit Arbors' usual return-to-swing curriculum -- "The Way
You Look Tonight" starts out there, but Monk, Shorter, Ron Carter,
Billy Joel, and someone named Mihanovich also make the list, plus
a couple by good ol' "traditional" and one original. The point, I
suppose, is to showcase her versatility, but I can't discern any
other. Good pianist in Lynne Arriale, underused. "Shenandoah" is
a nice closer, even with the vocal scat.
B

Bill Charlap: Plays George Gershwin: The American Soul
(2005, Blue Note).
The big change here is the addition of a horn section to Charlap's
usual superb trio. The horn section is equally impeccable: Phil Woods
on alto sax, Frank Wess on tenor sax, Nicholas Payton on trumpet,
and Slide Hampton on trombone. These are players who know the book
and know how to sweeten up the harmony, but they don't add much in
the way of energy. Charlap himself reworks these pieces extensively,
but he's so respectful of them that in the end he tucks them all
back together again.
B+(*)

Billy Childs Ensemble: Lyric: Jazz-Chamber Music Vol. 1
(2004 [2005], Lunacy Music).
This is so far away from anything that
interests me that I have to punt. More specifically, this has all the
hated accoutrements of euroclassical music: a string section, the
minor wind instruments of classical orchestrae (oboe, bassoon, french
horn, flutes up the wazzoo), harp even. Childs' piano fits right in,
without a trace of swing or stride or even bebop. On the other hand,
I have to admit that it doesn't churn my stomach like ye olde classics
so often do, and when the orchestra melts away to reveal the piano it
can be quite pretty. Note that the longest piece, called "Hope, in the
Face of Despair," was inspired by Art Spiegelman's Maus.
B

Tim Coffman: Crossroads (2004 [2005], BluJazz).
Three horns (piano, bass and drums) is typically an arranger's
lineup, not something I normally look forward to, but it does
improve the odds a bit that the leader plays trombone. Songlist
mostly comes from the hard bop era, with Juan Tizol's "Caravan"
the only throwback -- and one of the nicer things here, although
the arrangement breaks no new ground. Nothing here excites me,
but it's all tastefully crafted, the horns interlocking smoothly,
with generous solo space for the trombone.
B+(*)

Bill Cole/William Parker: Two Masters: Live at the Prism
(2005, Boxholder).
Cole is a master of eclecticism and exotica. He specializes in odd reed
instruments from around the world, giving first place to the digeridoo.
His two previous albums of Duets & Solos felt experimental,
as he dabbled with everything in his closet juxtaposed against various
partners. Parker was his most notable partner, leading to this duo.
But while Parker's mastery of the bass fiddle is unmatched, he too
likes to dabble. He high/low point here is a duet with both masters
squaring off with nagaswarms. It's called "Election Funeral Dance" --
while it was recorded earlier, the record was mixed on Nov. 3, 2004,
so I suspect that's when the title took over. It sounds a bit like
the work of two snakes who've disposed of their charmers. The other
pieces are more agreeable -- especially with Parker's hand drums.
Interesting things here, but it wears a bit thin as well. Cole's
done albums with larger groups -- Seasoning the Greens is
one I particularly like.
B+(*)

Graham Collier: Workpoints (1968-75 [2005],
Cuneiform, 2CD).
The British never paid bebop much heed. Well into the '60s British
jazz was dominated by the trad jazz movement -- Ken Colyer, Humphrey
Lyttelton, Chris Barber, Acker Bilk, Kenny Ball. Then in the late
'60s Britain developed a distinctive avant-garde culture, built as
much on the ideas of ultramodernists like Karlheinz Stockhausen and
Cornelius Cardew and the suddenly expanding vistas of art rock as
on anything in the jazz tradition -- least of all bebop. (The few
exceptions to the no-bop rule included Tubby Hayes and Ronnie Scott,
remembered mostly as eccentrics.) These two concerts led by bassist
Collier are good examples of the evolution of the new British jazz.
The first is a large band -- nine horns, vibes, bass and drums --
working in extended forms, striking in the intricate layering of
horns and the muscularity of the rhythm. The other is a sextet,
also working long pieces, this time centered around Ed Speight's
guitar. In both the composer maintains control while letting the
bands work out the details -- a mid-point between the dominating
arrangements of the classic swing bands and the pure improvisation
just around the corner, but neither compromise nor transition.
More like a new foundation for a postclassical European music
invigorated by jazz.
A-

Raynald Colom: My Fifty One Minutes (2004 [2005],
Fresh Sound New Talent).
Young Spanish trumpeter, probably his first album, and if the title is
any indication, possibly his last. He's mostly working in a mainstream
post-bop mode, alongside a saxophonist, electric keyboard, acoustic or
electric bass, and drums, except for an interlude which is pure funk
replete with vocal. The one saxophone bit you notice is guest Jesse
Davis.
B-

John Coltrane: One Down, One Up: Live at the Half Note
(1965 [2005], Impulse, 2CD).
Radio broadcast tapes, long circulated as bootlegs, finally cleaned up
for an official release. The group is the famous McCoy Tyner, Jimmy
Garrison, Elvin Jones quartet, but near the end of their run, with
Coltrane ready to head off for other dimensions. Worthwhile, of
course, but not as fresh as some of the earlier live material, of
which there is quite a lot.
B+(***)

Ravi Coltrane: In Flux (2005, Savoy Jazz).
He isn't, and never will be, the force that his father was, in large
part because he works so much more deliberately. But he tracks his
father's muse at least as assiduously as Hank Williams Jr. does his,
and unlike Williams shows no evidence of being an asshole. In fact,
he seems pretty normal. He's got a first rate group here; he works
within it and builds from that. Gets expansive toward the end. I've
never been sure that I didn't overrate his first record, but this
one tempts me the same way that one did. If his name was, oh, Tim
Warefield, he wouldn't suffer these odious comparisons, but then
he'd be much less well known. Can't have it both ways. But what
makes me think he may be overrated is that he plays so elegantly
within his given framework rather than pushing outside of it, like
we expect major artists to do. He isn't major, at least not in that
sense. But he is very good at what he does, and this album is such
a nonstop pleasure there's no reason to go sour.
A-

Common Ground: High Voltage (2004 [2005], Delmark).
Something about the two-violin lineup doesn't mesh quite right. My
guess (and I don't claim this to be anything but) is the rhythm
section -- piano-bass-drums, good mostly for a hot tempo that lets
the violins saw. Unlike horns, a violin doesn't move air the way
a voice does, so its utility as a lead instrument is diminished.
Someone like Billy Bang solves this problem by tightening up for
a searing sound, but simply doubling up the violins give neither
anywhere to hide. Still, it isn't bad: a lot of movement, plus
an interesting twist on a Beatles (George Harrison) song to finish.
B+(*)

Eric Comstock: No One Knows (2005, Harbinger).
At first he sounds like he might be the next Sinatra, then you notice
he's aiming more at Pizzarelli. A patch of three Strayhorn/Ellington
pieces shows you how carefully he navigates, but also how cautious he
can be. But he keeps moving on, tackling songwriters and pulling his
punches. When you expect him to pull out the stops on "Old Devil Moon"
he dampens down even more. There's something to be said for an artist
who constantly defies expectations, but I'm not sure what it is. He
is smart and articulate, and has impeccable taste in musicians.
B+(**)

Harry Connick Jr.: Occasion: Connick on Piano 2
(2005, Marsalis Music/Rounder).
The previous album in what's now a series, Other Hours: Connick
on Piano 1, matched Connick with relative unknowns Ned Goold,
Neal Caine, and Arthur Latin II (Goold and Caine have records on
Smalls). This one strips down to a mere duo, with far-from-unknown
Branford Marsalis the unannounced collaborator. This is a curious
marketing choice: duo albums usually name both collaborators -- if
nothing else, it cross-markets. Connick does sell better than
Marsalis, but the latter isn't chopped liver, and this album is
much more likely to be of interest to the saxophonist's fans.
I've played this 6-7 times, and the only adjective that comes to
mind for Connick is competent. Marsalis' work is nice, but it's
so tightly modulated to the piano framework that he doesn't
deliver much.
B

Rita Coolidge: And So Is Love (2005, Concord).
Originally tagged by her associations as country rock, Coolidge was
a very minor singer who managed eleven albums for A&M from 1971-84
but has only worked sporadically since then. So why not give her a shot
at "Sentimental Journey" and "Cry Me a River"? She's old enough for
Adult Contemporary, still has a voice with a bit of personality, and
Concord can always round up useful musicians. This was cut with two
piano trios plus various extras, of which Ronnie Cuber's one bari sax
appearance is the most useful. She doesn't wreck the good songs, and
doesn't salvage the not-so-good ones. Sounds professional.
B

Jackie Coon: The Joys of New Orleans (2005, Arbors).
Cover says, "All sales proceeds donated to the Jazz Foundation
of America for the benefit of New Orleans Musicians' relief." Looks
like they pulled this old tape off the shelf for just that purpose.
Don't know how old Coon is, but he recorded back in the mid-'50s
with Jack Teagarden and Barney Bigard. Most trumpeters also pack a
flugelhorn these days, but Coon is unique among trad jazz players
in preferring the larger horn, and he sticks to it here, with Connie
Jones complementing him on cornet. Strikes me as ordinary New Orleans
fare, regardless of the cause, a good one no doubt.
B

The Dan Cray Trio: Save Us! (2005, BluJazz).
Good piano trio. Quick out of the box with a Stevie Wonder piece, then
"When You Wish Upon a Star," then on to Cole Porter, Tadd Dameron,
Monk, Shorter, Silver, ending with an original (or two). Mainstream,
good taste, not a deconstructivist.
B+(**)

Dave's True Story: Nature (2005, BePop).
Dave is presumably guitarist Dave Cantor, who writes the songs and
plays along with bassist-producer Jeff Eyrich and extra studio hands.
Kelly Flint is the singer and the centerpiece. Starts off with a couple
of good songs, with a straight but warm and comfortable jazz framework.
B+(*)

Ernest Dawkins' New Horizons Ensemble: Mean Ameen
(2004, Delmark).
The title cut is a tribute to trumpeter Ameen Muhammad, with Maurice
Brown handling the key instrument. With Dawkins' alto or tenor sax
and Steve Berry's trombone the group is thick with brass and raucous.
B+(*)

Lea Delaria: Double Standards (2002 [2005], Telarc).
Her first album came from her standup comedy act, released under the
title Bulldyke in a China Shop. This one is a surprisingly
straight set of jazz vocals: she sings, scats even, with impressive
skill, and she has a solid mainstream jazz band anchored by Christian
McBride and Bill Stewart, with Gil Goldstein on piano and Seamus Blake
on tenor sax. But the songs aren't vintage standards -- she picks them
from Patti Smith, Los Lobos, Blondie, No Doubt, Jane's Addiction, the
Doors ("People Are Strange"), Green Day, the Pretenders, Robert Wyatt,
Neil Young ("Philadelphia"). But she makes them sound like standards,
which is harder than you'd figure -- or at least beyond the grasp of
almost any name brand jazz singer you can name. An impressive trick,
but I wouldn't mind a little more collateral damage. [Previously
issued by Warner Brothers in UK, but new here.]
B+(**)

Sarah DeLeo: The Nearness of You (2005, Sweet Sassy Music).
Young vocalist, identifies with singer Peggy Lee, not cellist Peggy
Lee; a passel of standards, mostly backed with guitar (Chris Bergson),
bass and drums, sometimes with keybs, two cuts with trumpet. So
competent, and so likeable, the ups and downs merely mirror the
songlist.
B+(*)

Whit Dickey: In a Heartbeat (2004 [2005],
Clean Feed).
Roy Campbell and Rob Brown make a fine pair. Joe Morris throws some
knuckleball guitar into the mix, with his abstract comping behind
Brown perhaps the highlight of this set. Chris Lightcap and Dickey
complete the group, with Dickey writing four of five pieces. I like
all the pieces here, my main reservation that they don't fully ignite
the way you might expect.
B+(*)

Sasha Dobson: The Darkling Thrush (2004, Smalls).
Pretty much exactly what they wanted: a singer with some edge on a
set of standards, a band (Chris Byars' Octet) good enough to stand
on their own. There are dozens of movies with this setting: go into
a smoky nightclub to conduct some business or just chill out, find
a singer on stage doing a first-rate job even though nobody's paying
attention. She lets the songs do the work, zipping through "I'm
Beginning to See the Light" and struggling a bit with "Sophisticated
Lady."
B+(*)

Down to the Bone: Spread Love Like Wildfire (2005,
Narada Jazz).
Smooth jazz, but the groove is hard to deny, even if there is nothing
terribly interesting about it.
B+(*)

The Edge: David Axelrod at Capitol Records (1966-70
[2005], Capitol Jazz): although intended as a tribute to Axelrod's
prowess as a producer, the clearest picture emerges from ten cuts
released under Axelrod's own name: elaborate quasi-classical music
most often encountered in soundtracks, but possibly intended as prog
rock; half the rest fit the same mold, including a heavy one from
Cannonball Adderley that's as close to jazz as the album gets; that
leaves three cuts from the inner fringes of r&b, the one that
most admires Paul Robeson.
B-

Harris Eisenstadt: The Soul and Gone (2004 [2005],
482 Music).
Sextet led by drummer Eisenstadt, with several familiar
Chicago players: Jeb Bishop (trombone), Jeff Parker (guitar), Jason
Roebke (bass). Also a couple of Jasons I'm unfamiliar with: Adasiewicz
(vibes) and Mears (alto sax, clarinet). It may be that Eisenstadt's
got too many resources here for his rather abstract music -- lots of
little sounds pop out of nowhere and vanish as quickly. Interesting
stuff, in principle, and listenable as well, but I suspect he could
have done more with less.
B+(*)

Either/Orchestra: Éthiopiques 20: Live in Addis (2004 [2005],
Buda Musique, 2CD).
Francis Falceto's Éthiopiques series provided a comprehensive
survey of Ethiopia's short-lived pop music flowering in the early
'70s, a period soon choked off by infertile war and revolution. Now
Falceto has come full circle with new recordings, both of Etiopians
and of western musicians who discovered Ethiopia through his unique
series. A few years back, Russ Gershon rearranged several pieces from
Éthiopiques 13 for his big band. That led to Gershon's
Either/Orchestra playing an extended program of Ethiopian music at a
festival in Addis Ababa, recorded here. The session starts with five
west-meets-east pieces where the orchestra's discipline doesn't tame
the source material so much as muscles it up. But it keeps its African
roots, especially thanks to guest percussionist Mulatu Astatqé. After
that start, more Ethiopian guests join in -- several singers, and
explosive saxophonist Gétatchèw Mèkurya.
A-

Kahil El'Zabar's Ritual Trio: Live at the River East Art
Center (2004 [2005], Delmark).
The 4:39 piece of Kahil "testifying" - arguing that we should live life
fully and not be boring - is both too explicit and too wishy-washy for
my taste. Don't care much for his singing, chanting, or whatever either,
but I accept the proposition that his late bassist, Malachi Favors, was
a big big man, "big Favors" indeed. But the music in the four long
pieces keep up an easy, patient groove. El'Zabar's percussion is at
the center of this, but Ari Brown's tenor sax sings true. Bang doesn't
blow this crowd away, as he could, but his acid bow contrasts strongly
with Brown, and handles any curves El'Zabar and Yosef Ben Israel throw
his way.
B+(**)

Avram Fefer/Bobby Few: Kindred Spirits (2004 [2005],
Boxholder).
Bobby Few worked with Steve Lacy for many years, so expecially when he
starts into the Monk songs it's tempting to think of Fefer as a Lacy
fill-in. That doesn't work for several reasons, including that Fefer
plays tenor sax and clarinet as well as soprano sax, but most of all
because he's just not Lacy. Still, the four Monk pieces, plus two
from Mingus and one from Ellington, have a nicely rounded, intimate
feel to them. The Fefer originals at the end are less shapely, but
maintain the intimate mood.
B+(**)

Avram Fefer/Bobby Few: Heavenly Places (2004-05 [2005],
Boxholder).
This one is free improv, with three long, relatively unstructured pieces.
As such, it's bound to be tougher listening than the standards on their
Kindred Spirits, and indeed it is. Fefer's tenor sax has a frog
down the bell somewhere, but his clarinet is clearer and more thoughtful.
The good spots are short, the sort of interplay that grabs you when you
least expect it. Few's spots fare a bit better, as does his work behind
Fefer. Few has a background with Steve Lacy, so that may be the model
here, but Fefer isn't Lacy, by a long shot.
B

Eric Felten: Meets the Dek-Tette (VSOP).
This was conceived as a tribute to singer Mel Torme and cool jazz
arranger Marty Paich, and that defines it for all practical purposes.
Felten doesn't have the sweetness in his voice that Torme had, but
he makes a strong impression. The band, with old pros like Herb Geller
and Jack Sheldon, comes off even stronger, while the Brent Wallarab's
new arrangements have a crispness that wouldn't be evident if they
had just recycled Paich's originals.
B+(**)

Amina Figarova: September Suite (2005, Munich).
Haven't gotten much more out of this. The suite is heartfelt,
soberly executed; the musicianship dutiful. She's better at
"Numb" and "Emptyness" than "Rage" -- which is good in a human,
but not necessarily in an artist.
B+(*)

Renée Fleming: Haunted Heart (2005, Decca).
I gather that she's a famous opera singer, and that this is just a
change of pace. (Even so, the credits include names like Berg and
Mahler, along with Lennon-McCartney, Joni Mitchell, Stevie Wonder,
and Stephen Foster.) She called an earlier album The Beautiful
Voice, but isn't beauty in the ear of the beholder? She dwells
in the deep end of an extraordinary range, has remarkable diction,
and can turn on and modulate a vibrato like no one I've ever heard.
So she can sing, but the only song that she really elevates is "My
Cherie Amour" -- but then Stevie Wonder is one pop star with no
future crooning jazz standards (cf. his "St. Louis Blues" on that
Herbie Hancock record). Fleming may measure up as a pure singer
to Sarah Vaughan and Betty Carter, but she doesn't hold a candle
to them as a jazz singer. But what makes this matter as jazz?
Nothing, really, except that her accompanists have notable jazz
reps, even though there's nothing very jazzy about what they do
here. Which isn't to knock them. Fred Hersch is as near-perfect
as I've ever heard him (which is saying something), while Bill
Frisell is a model of economy and elegance. (They both play on
two cuts, leaving six with just Frisell, seven with Hersch only.)
But they dutifully keep their seats behind the voice. I find this
both remarkable and repulsive, not quite the monster I expect,
but not without menace nonetheless.
B

Fred Frith: Eleventh Hour (1990-2002 [2005],
Winter & Winter, 2CD).
Frith makes for scratchy, plucky minimalism -- none of the neat electronic
blips that originally defined the genre, but the extended motifs with
negligible shifts of rhythm and texture fit the mold. Here is he more
composer than musician: the first disc is dominated by the Arditti String
Quartet, while Frith's guitar is more prominent on the second. I haven't
followed Frith since his early prepared guitar solos, so I have no idea
how this fits into what is now a long career.
B+(*)

Mitchell Froom: A Thousand Days (2005, Kontextrecords).
Well known as a producer and part-time Latin Playboy, this is a
sharp change of pace: a short (38:03) solo piano album, original
material, moderately paced, modestly done. Nice. Handsome cover.
So what?
B

The Red Garland Quintets Featuring John Coltrane: Prestige
Profiles (1957-61 [2005], Prestige).
And Donald Byrd, for the quintessential bebop quintet lineup. Except
for one piece with a different quintet, with Richard Williams and
Oliver Nelson. Starts with "Billie's Bounce," which never sounded more
retro. Best thing here is Garland's own "Soul Junction," with a long
intro that lets you enjoy the piano, before Coltrane enters like he's
easing into a warm bath.
B+(**)

Charles Gayle: Shout! (2003 [2005], Clean Feed).
Seems like a typical Gayle album, right down to the curveball piece
where he plays piano. He's no more awkward on piano than he is on
tenor sax. He plays both with rough abandon, but he keeps his sax
on a shorter tether than in the old days - lots of strained notes,
a pressure that builds and rarely releases. On the other hand, he
can cut loose more on piano without the ceiling crashing down. This
complements his performance on the Sirone-Bang album.
B+(**)

Dizzy Gillespie/Charlie Parker: Town Hall, New York City,
June 22, 1945 (1945 [2005], Uptown).
Jazz critics write about Charlie Parker as if he was Jesus. He came
unto the world to deliver us from swing, and after a few breathtaking,
turbulent years he died for our sins. His death was greeted by denial
and resurrection, as in the ubiquitous "Bird Lives!" graffiti of the
'50s. His acolytes have scoured the land for every scrap of solo he
left, so now there are dozens of bootlegged live tapes in print --
most in execrable sound quality, but cherished nonetheless. All this
reverence has always turned me off, and I've been slapped down more
times than I care to recall for saying so. To my ears, which perhaps
significantly had absorbed Ornette Coleman and Anthony Braxton before
I ever turned to Parker, he's always been a one trick pony: he played
off chord changes at breakneck speed. There's no doubt that he's an
important, even pivotal, figure in jazz history. But Jesus is only for
true believers, and I'm just not one. So when this newly discovered
treasure came in the mail I put it on the shelf, not into the changer.
Now that I've finally gotten to it, I can report: first, this is
Gillespie's group, doing Gillespie's songs, which means that Parker
really has to work to steal the show (which he does at least twice);
the sound is pretty clean and well balanced; Symphony Sid is as boring
as ever; there are no new revelations here, but this gives you an idea
what the excitement was about.
B+(***)

Dennis González NY Quartet: NY Midnight Suite
(2003 [2004], Clean Feed).
This takes a while to kick in, but the interplay between Gonzalez
and Eskelin is especially worthwhile. Not strongly, or even remotely,
latin; very typical contemporary avant-garde, of a high order.
B+(**)

Dexter Gordon: Daddy Plays the Horn (1955,
Shout! Factory).
Between drugs and busts, the bebop's first major
tenor saxophonist recorded little in the mid-'50s; this exception
shows that it had nothing to do with his skills -- the big tone,
the powerful swing, his wit and demeanor are all evident, as is
Kenny Drew's redoubtable piano.
A-

Gush: Norrköping (2003 [2005], Atavistic).
The quiet spots are more annoying than the squalls. The piano has a
rinky-dink feel, but Mats Gustafsson's baritone sax has some muscle.
B

Julie Hardy: A Moment's Glance (2005, Fresh Sound
New Talent).
Mild singer, likes to scat, but doesn't have the lungs for it.
Backup is mainstream and not especially distinguished.
B

Donald Harrison/Ron Carter/Billy Cobham: New York Cool: Live
at the Blue Note (2005, Half Note).
Same lineup as Heroes, an album recorded in 2002 that
challenged Harrison to work in a tight trio context, but helped him
out with an extraordinary rhythm section. But this reprise has the
easy structure of a concert performance, with traditional fare, long
pieces, even a healthy-sized drum solo. In other words, nothing so
challenging -- even if much is enjoyable, including the drum solo.
B

Richie Hart: Greasy Street (2005, Zoho).
Hart's last one, Blues in the Alley, was such a straightforward
blues romp I was reluctant to file it under jazz. This one is
certainly jazzier, with a preference for shimmering notes. Not
dislikeable, not even when Dr. Lonnie guests. Sweet even, but weren't
they aiming for greasy?
B

Andrew Hill: Mosaic Select (1967-70 [2005], Mosaic, 3CD).
One of the most important pianists to emerge in the '60s, Hill recorded
extensively for Blue Note from 1963 to 1970, but as the label declined
he increasingly found his recordings stuck on the shelf. After many years
of quietly recording on European labels, Hill re-emerged with Dusk
(2000, Palmetto) gaining accolades for his arrangements. Blue Note soon
came out with the previously unreleased Passing Ships, which in
its intricate arrangements for a six piece band was the perfect bookend
opposite Dusk. This box answers the question of what else by Hill
is in Blue Note's basement. It leads off with a 1970 sextet session
featuring Charles Tolliver in brilliant form and closes with a 1967
sextet with Sam Rivers in chronic breakdown. In between are a basic
trio session from 1967 and an intriguing strings session from 1969.
B+(**)

Mike Holober and the Gotham Jazz Orchestra: Thought Trains
(1996 [2004], Sons of Sound).
Another NYC-based big band of convenience, including a few well known
players working for the relatively unknown pianist/composer/arranger.
More conventional than, e.g., Justin Mullens' crowd, which is part of
the reason they sound much better.
B+(**)

Elmo Hope: Trio and Quartet (1953-57 [2005], Blue Note).
This combines two early 10-inch LPs -- one a trio,
the other a quintet with Freeman Lee on trumpet and Frank Foster
on tenor sax -- plus three tracks from a later quintet with Stu
Williamson and Harold Land. Hope was a fine bebop pianist, best
heard on the sparkling trios, but interesting throughout, even
when he takes a back seat to Foster's swinging leads. Land, of
course, is more boppish, but less compelling.
B+(***)

Wayne Horvitz/Ron Samworth/Peggy Lee/Bill Clark/Dylan van der Schyff:
Intersection Poems (2003 [2004], Spool/Line).
Four musicians from Vancouver, one from Seattle, meet for free form
improvisation, with no one much in control, and no real direction
in mind. Sometimes it sounds like something might come of it, then
it wanders off again. I certainly haven't paid it the attention it
might deserve, but then I expect records to tell me when they're
important, and this one didn't.
B

Dick Hyman and Tom Pletcher: If Bix Played Gershwin
(2004, Arbors).
Bix Beiderbecke played with Paul Whiteman's orchestra around the time
when Whiteman recorded Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," but evidently
Bix wasn't on the record. Hyman, as adroit a scholar of prewar jazz
as wel have, and a remarkable chameleon on the piano, claims that
"Gershwin pieces were peculiarly absent from Bix's play list." But
that just sets up this thought experiment. In any case, Hyman and
Pletcher, who plays cornet, are thinking of Bix's earlier work with
Frank Trumbauer -- Dan Levinson plays c-melody sax per his model.
It's a minor delight, but not the Gershwin showcase you might have
expected -- so used are we to Gershwin in swing.
B+(*)

Dick Hyman and Randy Sandke: Now and Again (2005, Arbors).
Hyman provides support without ever taking charge: he is so professional
he almost disappears. Sandke, meanwhile, is coming more distinctively
into his own. He even writes two pieces, which set nicely among the
Armstrong and Morton classics, the Porter and Mercer standards, and
one piece penned by Hyman called "Thinking About Bix."
B+(**)

Vijay Iyer: Reimagining (2004 [2005], Savoy Jazz).
Iyer is such a domineering pianist that the presence of a saxophone
in his quartet just gives him an extra hurdle to clamber over. His
quartet here is less avant than the bass-less trio Fieldwork. Stephan
Crump's bass has a leveling effect, and Marcus Gilmore's drums don't
push the edge like Elliott Kavee (or Tyshawn Sorey, who has replaced
Kavee since Fieldwork's second album dropped), but the main difference
is in the saxophonists: Rudresh Mahanthappa shows a strong Coltrane
influence, while the more acerbic Steve Lehman comes out of Jackie
McLean and Anthony Braxton. The constant, of course, is Iyer. I came
to this one after Fieldwork, and in general I'm only starting to work
my way backwards through Iyer's work. This is more intricate, measured,
and polished than Fieldwork, and as such it doesn't have the physical
punch. In the long run that may favor this album, but not yet. I am,
however, suitably impressed.
A-

Keith Jarrett: Radiance (2002 [2005], ECM, 2CD).
Solo piano, recorded in Japan in 2002, released near his 60th birthday.
Jarrett did a lot of this in the early '70s. This resembles his early
marathons, particularly in how he turns small movements over to create
large ones. But it does feel less olympic, less a feat of endurance
and athleticism, more meditative. After all, he's getting on.
B+(*)

Jazzmob: Pathfinder (2003, Jazzaway).
Norwegian quintet led by alto saxist Jon Klette. Hard to pigeonhole,
since avant-trad-fusion doesn't clarify much of anything. Except
perhaps by suggesting a cosmic wormhole to the similarly named Sexmob,
who do a better job of keeping what they're spoofing straight.
B

Billy Jenkins: Still . . . Sounds Like Bromley
(1995 [1997], Babel).
This is a very strange record, which at various times has freaked me
out, at others filled me with awe. The lineup is huge and diverse.
The sounds they create could fill the ultimate psychedelic circus.
There is an intense playfulness here. One suspects satire at points,
but satire without irony is impossible, and this seems way too naive
to be ironic. Rather, it's mania at play. If you don't resist too
much, you'll enjoy yourself.
A-

Billy Jenkins: Suburbia (1999, Babel).
The credits include screaming kids, lawn mowers, and the kitchen sink.
The kids, at least, appear in a piece called "Coke Cans in Yer Garden,"
with Jenkins' electric guitar soaring around them. This starts with
a cryptic, broken blues piece, and ends with an r&b sendup that
concludes that suburbia is "a place to come from." Intermittently
amazing, as usual, just a little more intermittent than some of the
competition.
B+(***)

Antonio Carlos Jobim: Symphonic Jobim (2002 [2005],
Adventure Music, 2CD).
A better idea than "symphonic Rolling Stones," but still a specialty
item. The project was led by Paulo Jobim and Mario Adnet, recorded
with members of the Orquestra Sinfónica do Estado do São Paulo,
conducted by Roberto Minczuk, with Milton Nascimento crashing the
party. Overall, it's short on beat, and Nascimento's vocals don't
do anything for me.
B-

Sean Jones: Gemini (2005, Mack Avenue).
I have mixed feelings here. Jones is a young trumpeter (27) on his second
album, without much sideman experience to point to, but the blurb points
out that Wynton Marsalis picked him up for the Lincoln Center Jazz
Orchestra. He can play, and can kick up his heels; the bits I like
best are the ones where it's just him and rhythm. The producers often
add more, some of which works, some much less so, but none of it is
really unpleasant.
B

Anders Jormin: Xieyi (1999 [2001], ECM).
Mostly a solo bass record, and a rather slow, sedate one at that, but
it draws my attention. The exceptions are six short pieces for brass
quartet (trumpet or flugelhorn, french horn, trombone, bass trombone),
which are slight and elegant. A record this slight could easily slip
by without getting proper notice.
B+(*)

Jumala Quintet: Turtle Crossing (2000 [2005], Clean Feed).
Three horns, bass and drums. The saxophones, in various weights and combos,
are played by Paul Flaherty and Joe McPhee, except when McPhee switches to
pocket trumpet. They each go their own way, as you'd expect even if not
warned that they had never played together before recording -- hadn't even
discussed what they were going to play. The third horn is Steve Swell's
trombone, who fits in or stands out, as the case may be. This is one of
those pure improv things that seems to always be on the edge between
self-indulgence and self-discovery, but it's more consistently interesting
than most.
B+(*)

Kammerflimmer Kollektief: Absencen (2005, Staubgold).
Kraut rock as the rhythmic base for some scratchy sax improv, of which
I wish there were more. The synths are mostly dreamy, with one track
kicking up the reverb to sound like Hawaiian pedal steel. Choice cut:
"Lichterloh."
B+(*)

Peter Kenagy: Little Machines (2003 [2005],
Fresh Sound New Talent).
Young (b. 1977) trumpet player from Seattle,
based in Boston. This is his first album, a sextet with two saxes,
guitar, bass and drums, on a thoughtful but slow moving program.
B+(*)

Soweto Kinch: Conversations With the Unseen (2003 [2004],
Dune).
Kinch plays saxophone with a combination of r&b excitement and
Coltrane-ish expansiveness, much like Ravi Coltrane. This makes his
instrumental flights almost irresistible, but that's hardly the end
of the story. He seems to shelter ambitions of pop stardom, at least
at the Courtney Pine level if not quite Dizzee Rascal. The three odd
cuts out here are "Intro," "Intermission," and "Outro" -- all rap
pieces. The bookends are just verbal vamps -- "Outro" is just a riff
on the phrase "we're shutting it down," repeated until they do. The
middle piece has a story to it, although Kinch's accent and phrasing
are more interesting. I find the raps a turn-off, not least because
I listen to enough rap to see these as second rate. But the man can
blow.
B+(**)

Ilona Knopfler: Live the Life (2005, Mack Avenue).
I'm surprised first of all that I find the many French songs here to
be little short of annoying. The hype touts her "clear, powerful
voice" but I find it to be rather light, lacking gravitas. A second
problem is the music, which approaches big band mass without picking
up any real punch -- not that I'm asking for Billy May or anything
like that, just something to hold on to.
B-

Lee Konitz With Alan Broadbent: More Live-Lee
(2000 [2004], Milestone).
A second CD of duo performances from the Jazz Bakery in 2000. Much like
the first, with Konitz searching deliberately and thoughtfully, and
Broadbent discursively answering. No drop off; maybe even an edge over
the first, inasmuch as Konitz is a shade more prominent.
B+(**)

Simone Kopmajer: Romance (2005, Zoho).
A singer, she has a touch which is precise and just nuanced enough to
bring you in close. The band, piano trio plus Eric Alexander on tenor
sax, is impeccable. The songs are standards, with two takes of Bill
Withers' "Whatever Happens" adapted for torching.
B+(*)

Kathy Kosins: Vintage (2005, Mahogany Jazz/Lightyear).
She has a voice that commands attention, and a band that rewards it.
She looks for songs that haven't been beat to death, and writes a bit
of one. The most famous song here is "These Boots Are Made for Walkin,"
which doesn't resolve into the recognizable until the chorus, and then
wanders off into a riff on boots and walkin, concluding "don't forget
Bootsy Collins" (for those of you who denied your Funk Permit, that's
a reference to Bootsy's This Boot Is Made for Fonk-n). Will
Friedwald's notes liken her phrasing to Tony Bennett's, which seems
roughly true, especially on the closing ballads. But she's hipper than
Bennett (not to mention Friedwald), even though the cover photo looks
like a scrap from the '40s.
B+(**)

Steve Kuhn Trio: Quiéreme Mucho (2000 [2005],
Sunnyside).
Gringo piano trio works its way through an all-Latin
songbook, including such well known pieces as "Bésame Mucho" and
"Duerme." Sharply played, bright sound, but while the melodies
are recognizable the "Spanish tinge" is somehow missing.
B

Yusef Lateef: Psychicemotus (1965 [2005], Impulse).
There is something odd about Lateef's world music -- in some ways
he's ahead of the times, but in others it feels like he found his
exotica in old National Geographics. Here he hops about the globe
from flute to bamboo flute, never settling anywhere long enough to
get comfortable, neglecting the tenor sax which is his true calling.
Pianist George Arvanitas gets the last cut for a solo. He's earned
it, but not necessarily here.
B

Bradley Leighton: Groove Yard (2003, Pacific Coast Jazz).
Flute record, on top of a pretty decent rhythm section, working from a
a list of standards including two Jobims and the title cut from Wes
Montgomery. It's OK, but file under flutes.
B

Ramsey Lewis: With One Voice (2005, Narada Jazz).
Church music. Big church, performed live, with sixty voices in the
choir, shaking the rafters on "Oh Happy Day," and guest vocalists
Smokie Norful and Darius Brooks leading a song each. The group
varies by song, sometimes a dozen or more strong. Kevin Randolph
co-wrote several pieces with Lewis, and plays keyboards throughout,
but Lewis' piano pokes through as the single most authoritative
instrument. I don't expect much from Lewis these days, so the joy
and power of the opener caught me by surprise. This plays out as
a solid, but hardly transcendent, gospel album.
B

Charles Lloyd: Jumping the Creek (2005, ECM).
Seems like a typical album for Lloyd these days.
B+(*)

Joe Locke: Rev-elation (2005, Sharp Nine).
Front cover attributes this to Joe Locke and the Milt Jackson Tribute
Band, and names the rest of the group: Mike LeDonne, Bob Cranshaw,
Mickey Roker. Spine just lists Locke. Booklet explains that the
"driving force" behind the band was ex-Jackson pianist LeDonne.
AMG only lists one Jackson album that LeDonne appeared on: 1997's
Sa Va Bella, one of the vibes master's last -- although
the Penguin Guide says that LeDonne played with Jackson "for many
years." The booklet says that LeDonne, Cranshaw and Roker played
with Jackson for a decade. In any case, this is LeDonne's second
Jackson tribute, following 2001's Bags Groove, on Double-Time,
with Steve Nelson working the mallets, along with Cranshaw, Roker,
and four horn players. The list of eight songs includes one by
Jackson, LeDonne, and Locke, plus five covers that no doubt showed
up somewhere on Jackson's hundred-plus albums, including one by
Ray Brown called "Used to Be Jackson." I'm beating around the bush
here because I don't quite get the point. My ear isn't sharp enough
to readily pick out differences between vibraphonists, but two
things stick in my mind about Jackson: one was that the main thing
that he brought to his own records was his effervescent swing,
which was one thing that made his records with Basie so memorable;
the other was his ability to accentuate the rhythmic sense of his
pianists, starting with his amazing work with Monk. I don't feel
either of those senses here, although Locke has done similar things
with more modern pianists, like Kenny Barron. Of course, shorn of
its concept, this is a fine sounding, if somewhat backward looking,
piano-vibes quartet album.
B+(*)

Frank Lowe/Billy Bang Quartet: One for Jazz (2001,
No More).
A quarter century past their initial collaborations, two years before
Lowe's death, this is a group at home with itself, playing music that
only outsiders might view as on the edge. So much of their
personalities come through in the music that it's a rare pleasure just
to kick back and listen.
A-

Pedro Madaleno: The Sound of Places (2003 [2004],
Clean Feed).
Portuguese guitarist, tends to be subtle but his work is elegant, and
tenor saxophonist Wolfgang Fuhr, who is also subtle but on a louder
instrument, draws out the highlights.
B+

Sherrie Maricle & the DIVA Jazz Orchestra: TNT: A Tommy
Newsom Tribute (Lightyear).
Maricle's all-woman orchestra powers through ten Newsom
arrangements. Maricle appeared on Newsom's Octo-Pussycats record, and
on an earlier album with Newsom's Tonite Show predecessor, Skitch
Henderson -- connections that garnered her an approving blurb from the
late Johnny Carson. Band is quite solid, swings hard, has some bright
voices.
B+(*)

René Marie: Serene Renegade (2004, MaxJazz).
I was surprised (shocked was more like it) when Morton & Cook
singled out her album Vertigo for one of their crowns. I
haven't heard that one, but this one and its predecessor show a
very skillful singer, but not one I've connected with. She writes,
too -- all but two songs here: she struggles a bit with "A Hard
Day's Night" but aces "Lover Man."
B+(**)

Wynton Marsalis: Unforgivable Blackness: The Rise and Fall of
Jack Johnson (2004, Blue Note).
The most inspired music inspired by Jack Johnson belongs to Miles Davis,
but it isn't of Johnson's period, and doesn't fit the expected scope
of a Johnson biography, which is inevitably tragic. Moreover, Ken Burns
isn't the sort of videomaker who could find let alone flesh out what
Miles found in Johnson. Burns naturally turned to Wynton Marsalis, as
he had in his jazz series. Marsalis went back, if not to Johnson's
actual period, at least to the period Marsalis understands best, and
stitched together a series of short pieces of vintage New Orleans
jazz. Marsalis is overrated as the new Miles Davis and ridiculous
as the new Duke Ellington but he can be quite enjoyable playing with
Jelly Roll Morton, and that's what he does here. This has many of
the usual problems of soundtracks, including some gloomy piano music
for when times get tough at the end, but mostly just the shortness
and disconnections of the pieces.
B+(**)

Wynton Marsalis: Amongst the People: Live at the House of
Tribes (2002 [2005], Blue Note).
The opening hard bop workout of "Green Chimneys" is a fair barometer
of Wynton's skills at this stage: he runs a first rate band, plays
first rate trumpet, and has enough fun to be infectious. The closing
"2nd Line" is even better: a straight, old-fashioned New Orleans
romp with exultant voices (presumably the crowd?) leaking in at
every opportunity. Too bad Wess Anderson had to play the trombone
bits on alto sax, but otherwise it's hard to fault. In between are
ballads and rave-ups, all expertly played, most fun to hear. He's
a great player. His only weakness is when he tries to think. And
he's only dangerous when he lets Stanley Crouch do the thinking
for him. Which is why the liner notes are better smoked than read.
B+(**)

Mike Marshall: Brazil Duets (2005, Adventure Music).
Not as egregious as most duets albums these days -- no singers, just
a choice of second instrumentalists to go with Marshall's mandolin or
guitar. Marshall initially established himself in bluegrass, but took
such an interest in Brazilian choro that he founded Adventure Music,
a label that has done a fine job of connecting the dots between Brazil
(and other parts of Latin America) and the U.S. He manages to do some
interesting stuff here, but the common problem is that the music winds
up thin with just two players -- and none of the seconds add to the
percussion -- and from song to song the feel shifts strangely. Maybe
he took duets too literally.
B

Hugh Masekela: Revival (2005, Heads Up).
South Africa's most famous jazz trumpeter returns home to a scene run
amok with kwaito -- South Africa's take on hip-hop -- and works
through his own twist on South African r&b, singing most of the
songs, but making more of a mark with his horn. The more trad
"District Six" I recall the title of a Chris McGregor album, but don't
recall the significance -- something from the Apartheid era. "Working
Underground" is another hardship song, no doubt as felt today as it
was back then.
B+(**)

Jackie McLean: Consequence (1965 [2005], Blue Note).
McLean made dramatic advances toward the avant-garde during his tenure
with Blue Note, but he also cut straight hard bop sessions like this
one. One key is the lineup: Lee Morgan, Harold Mabern, Herbie Lewis,
Billy Higgins. Another is a first song called "Bluesanova" -- more
blues than nova, of course. A minor album in McLean's discography,
not released until a housecleaning in 1979. Still, fans of Mabern
and Morgan will be pleased.
B+(*)

Pat Metheny Group: The Way Up (2005, Nonesuch).
Metheny's tirades against Kenny G are such common knowledge that
Richard Thompson wrote a song about the dispute, siding pointedly
with his fellow guitarist. But this record found itself #2 on
Billboard's Contemporary Jazz chart, stuck behind, you guessed
it, Kenny G, and leading a crowd of smooth jazz icons. There is
nothing in the music here that suggests that slotting -- a clue,
perhaps, is that the only other artist on the Contemporary Jazz
chart with any real jazz credibility is Bill Frisell, also on
Nonesuch. Metheny himself is a guy we've never been all that
sure of. On the one hand, he's worked with abstractionists like
Derek Bailey, cut a near-unlistenable solo album called Zero
Tolerance for Silence, and provided commercial camouflage
for Ornette Coleman's dazzling Song X. On the other hand,
his longstanding Group with keyboardist Lyle Mays has been the
most consistently popular fusion group of the last 25 years.
This album adheres to none of the conventions of smooth jazz.
In fact, it's a suite: an opening and three parts, each running
past the 15 minute mark. I can't conceive of how they can edit
it for airplay, but it does have one smooth connection: it's an
elegant piece of texturing, and as such it fades gently into
the background. But the texturing feels organic, and Cuong Vu's
trumpet adds color. It's not compelling enough for either an
artistic or commercial breakthrough, but it's not complacent
or formulaic either.
B+(**)

Pat Metheny/Ornette Coleman: Song X: Twentieth Anniversary
(1985 [2005], Nonesuch).
Anyone even roughly familiar with Coleman's
evolution from Science Fiction in 1971 up through Virgin
Beauty in 1988 will instantly recognize the real author here.
Metheny got top billing because he made the deal that got the album
released. Likewise, the reissue is part of Metheny's deal with his
latest label. This makes for some interesting contrasts that have
little to do with music. Metheny has enjoyed rare commercial favor
thoughout his career, receiving major label support everywhere he's
gone. Coleman, on the other hand, never worked consistently with a
label after his early Atlantics and Blue Notes, and often has opted
not to record rather than to feed the exploiters. One result of this
is that only two Coleman albums from the '70s and '80s are still in
print -- making him far and away the most obscure genius in jazz.
So maybe you don't know those albums? In the '70s Coleman started
working with electric guitar and bass, producing albums that were
true fusion -- in the sense that fusion produces new elements plus
copious energy, not just a mix of the old compounds. Metheny had
early on recorded an album of Coleman pieces, and had worked quite
a bit with Coleman bassist Charlie Haden, so however strange Song
X may seem within Metheny's crossover-dominated catalog, he
clearly knew what he was doing here, and plays with exceptional
skill. Haden and Jack DeJohnette also work to steady the platform,
letting Metheny and Coleman cut loose. The result is a satisfying
mix of old-and-new Ornette, an interesting contrast to Coleman's
own 1985 album, In All Languages, where he kept his new
and reformed old groups separate. The new issue adds six scraps
that didn't fit the original LP length, putting them seemlessly
up front where they warm up the themes the album proper extends.
A

Hendrik Meurkens: Amazon River (2005, Blue Toucan).
Meurkens plays Brazilian jazz. His first instrument was vibes, but
here he has mostly shifted over to harmonica. The main effect is
to thicken the sound as the harmonica overwhelms everything else.
Two vocals each by Dori Caymmi and Oscar Castro-Neves tend to make
things murkier, especially Caymmi.
B

Wolfgang Mitterer: Radio Fractal/Beat Music: Live at Donaueschingen
2002 (2003, Hatology).
This was built around a long computer track (nearly two hours, split over
two discs) which Mitterer assembled mostly from found sounds - among the
more recognizable are saws and planes, and of course there are voices.
Extra sounds are added via electronics and a turntablist, as well as by
musicians playing conventional instruments - drums, guitar, baritone sax.
I prefer the more beatwise parts, of which there are many, but even when
it indulges its musique concrète jones this sounds sharp, well thought
out, whatever the opposite of aleatory is - not planned so much as
deliberate. Two discs just give you more, including some variation in
the playing. Moreover, the second is shorter and has more beats.
B+(***)

Ben Monder: Oceana (2004 [2005], Sunnyside).
A guitarist I run across frequently in side roles, where he is
often a notable asset. This shows the range of skills that makes
him so useful on the side, but doesn't cohere into much. Two solo
cuts, some with bass-drums, some with Theo Bleckmann, whose sounds
more like a theremin than a vocalist. The common denominator is an
icy coloration, joining the electric beat-heavy "Rooms of Light"
and the Fripp-and-Eno-ambient "Spectre."
B+(*)

Thelonious Monk Quartet With John Coltrane: At Carnegie
Hall (1957 [2005], Blue Note).
Small world it was back in 1957. The program for Carnegie Hall's
Thanksgiving Jazz concert -- two shows, top-priced tickets going
for $3.95 -- lists a few other folks you might like to hear: Billie
Holiday, Dizzy Gillespie, Chet Baker with Zoot Sims, Sonny Rollins
("introducing in concert the brilliant"), and "special attraction"
Ray Charles. But Monk's two sets add up to 50:35, and satisfy our
craving to hear something more substantial from his short-lived,
rarely recorded Coltrane quartet than that cruddy-sounding Five
Spot tape that was acclaimed as Discovery! back in 1993.
It turns out that the concert was recorded by Voice of America
for overseas broadcast, but the tapes have languished ever since
in the Library of Congress vaults until Larry Appelbaum made his
discovery. The sound is fine. Monk engages quickly, but Coltrane
is revelatory, especially on the one non-Monk tune where he kicks
everything up a gear, then sustains that level to the end.
A

Barbara Montgomery: Trinity (2005, Mr. Bean and Bumpy).
Slower and heavier than her previous (quite likable) album, which fits the
two Leonard Cohen covers fine, leaves Stevie Wonder and Van Morrison in
limbo, and is rough on her originals.
B

Moraz/Bruford: Music for Piano and Drums (1983 [2004],
Winterfold).
Even though Moraz wrote all of the pieces here, this feels like a
rather even-handed, or even-weighted, collaboration. That's because
Moraz works the rhythmic angle of the piano, often setting up short
figures or vamps that Bruford can play off of. The three live Bonus
Tracks are closer to the prog-rock spirit of their Flags
collaboration -- in fact, "Flags" is one of the pieces.
B

Moraz/Bruford: Flags (1985 [2004], Winterfold).
Moraz came out of Yes, Bruford from King Krimson. Bruford's become a
pretty solid jazz drummer. He launched his own label, Summerfold, and
now he's added a reissue subsidiary, Winterfold. If you're thinking
hot shit vs. cold shit, you're basically right. This was transitional
for both, although Bruford at least landed somewhere. Moraz is still
stuck in a prog-rock vein, wandering because there's little to hold
him down. First song is full of poof, but this settles down a bit
after that, perhaps because Moraz moves from electronic to acoustic
piano. Uninteresting, but not unpleasant.
B-

Sarah Morrow & the American All Stars in Paris
(2005, O+ Music).
I don't quite have the hang of what this is or how it came to be.
Morrow plays trombone, and seems to be an American based in France.
Organist Rhoda Scott and tenor saxist Hal Singer are also featured
among the otherwise unknown all stars. (Well, I've heard of John
Betsch, but have you?) This swings pretty hard, and is a lot of
fun. Would like to have heard more trombone and less organ, but
that's just me. Hadn't heard from Singer in ages.
B+(**)

Morthana (2004, Jazzaway).
Group name appears to come from drummer Morten Olsen and guitarist
Anders Hana, leaving little acknowledgment of Andrew D'Angelo's reeds
(bass clarinet, alto sax). Judging from the sound that probably is
the pecking order, although the back cover credits are alphabetical
and/or front-to-back. Mostly a noise group -- bracing at best,
annoying otherwise.
B

Moutin Reunion Quartet: Something Like Now (2005,
Nocturne).
Bright, bouncy mainstream jazz from France, led by Moutin
brothers François and Louis on bass and drums, with a fine pianist
in Piere de Bethmann and the wonderful Rick Margitza on tenor sax.
First rate, but unexceptional. Good to hear Margitza again.
B+(*)

Mushroom: Glazed Popems (2004, Black Beauty, 2CD).
This is a San Francisco-based group with at least seven records in the
last ten years. AMG classifies them as: Indie Rock, Experimental Rock,
Noise. But this one at least is almost all instrumental, with wind
instruments (Ralph Carney on various saxes, clarinets and flutes;
Michel Pinta on trombone, tuba and bass trumpet), keyboards, and
guitars. The most extensive review of the album I've seen was on
fakejazz.com, but while this may be fake jazz, it is still, as my
father used to say, "close enough for government work." At least it
isn't new age: it has some swing even if not a lot of swagger. The
two discs are titled "London" and "Oakland." The former is meant to
evoke the '60s when English folk and jazz intersected in the work of
artists such as Bert Jansch, and it achieves an interesting synthesis.
The latter is spozed to be funkier, and I spoze it is, but it still
sounds like it's meant for the mind as opposed to the ass. The guitar
reminds me of Burnt Sugar, but the latter is a lot heavier.
B+(*)

Nanette Natal: It's Only a Tune (2004, Benyo Music).
Definitely a jazz singer, she mostly works at ballad tempi and projects
deep noir. With seven albums scattered over 24 years, all on her own
label, you get the feeling that she works deliberately and patiently,
that she won't fall for hype or pander. It's a level of expertise that
is real and substantial yet unlikely to go anywhere. She works here
with guitar, bass and drums, alto sax, trumpet and two trombones --
none are obtrusive or excessive, the sax decorating typically, the
trombone making a strong mark on the closer. She wrote, arranged,
and produced the whole thing.
B+(*)

Meshell Ndegeocello Presents: The Spirit Music Jamia: Dance
of the Infidel (2003 [2005], Shanachie).
This album feels like an experiment in progress, where the data is
still incomplete and nowhere near understood. The leader, her name
recently changed to Meshell Suhaila Bashir-Shakur, doesn't sing on
any of three vocal tracks, nor play bass on most of the rest, but
she has a piece of writing credits on seven of eight tracks, and
an arrangement on the other one. In other words, she sets up these
experiments, then steps back to observe. Whatever Spirit Jamia is,
it isn't a band: the musicians come and go, with only Michael Cain
appearing on a majority of the tracks, and no less than seven stars
credited with "horns" on a track or two -- three for Kenny Garrett.
Strip away the singers (Sabina, Cassandra Wilson, Lalah Hathaway)
and the horns and what you have left are soft funk grooves, mere
background music. But the one horn you won't want to strip away is
Oliver Lake's alto sax. He's the only one who plays rough enough
to breathe life into these experiments.
Choice cut: "Luqman."
B+(**)

Oliver Nelson's Big Band: Live From Los Angeles
(1967 [2005], Impulse).
Four trumpets, four trombones, six saxes (counting Nelson on soprano),
piano, bass, drums, guitar on two cuts -- your basic big band brass
orgy, staffed by west coast stalwarts who checked their cool at the
door. Not much of a swingfest, but the brass pyrotechnics are
thrilling.
B+(***)

David "Fathead" Newman: I Remember Brother Ray
(2005, HighNote).
One of no doubt many albums cashing in on Charles' recent death, or
perhaps more to the point, Charles' recent feats at the top of the
bestseller list. Newman, a soulful tenor saxophonist who often took
the spotlight in Charles' primetime orchestra, has as much right as
any. He takes the usual songs at a leisurely pace, like a hearse
headed to drop off its load, but thankfully there's no loss of
decorum -- no vocals, no guest stars, no bullshit. He gets able
assistance from John Hicks and Steve Nelson.
B+(**)

Organissimo: This Is the Place (2005, Big "O").
This is a tasty little organ trio, with Jim Alfredson on the Hammond B3,
Joe Gloss on guitar, and Randy Marsh on drums. One song gets some guest
sax, two extra percussion. I'm most impressed by the guitar.
B

Michael Pagán Big Band: Pag's Groove (2005, Capri).
In the category of institutionally supported big bands (cf.
my previous note on the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra), the largest
subcategory are university bands -- and I don't mean the marching
bands you see at college football games. There are quite a few such
bands, and one label in particular (Sea Breeze) specializes in their
output. Not sure that this qualifies, but it was recorded at the
University of Northern Colorado, and annotated by a prof at the
University of Colorado. I don't recognize any of the musicians
here, nor Pagán for that matter. I may just be getting tired as
I near the close of this round of prospecting, but all I have to
say about this record is: everyone seems to be in fine spirits,
doing good work, but this really doesn't do much of anything for
me.
B

Eddie Palmieri: Listen Here! (2005, Concord).
A typically impressive outing, but more impressive in its parts
than as a whole. The eight-person group is rather lean for big
band salsa, but this isn't really big band salsa -- the only
instrument duplicated is the relatively inconspicuous trombone.
Donald Harrison gets a good feature. So does Brian Lynch. The
drums-congas tandem runs away with a couple of pieces. Palmieri's
piano rarely stands out. The songbook includes three old bebop
warhorses, each impressive in its own right.
B+(**)

Mario Pavone: Boom (2003 [2004], Playscape).
Deeply influenced by the late Thomas Chapin, with whom he played bass
for many years, this is one of several recent albums attempting to
explore and build on Chapin's legacy -- including another one by
Pavone on Knitting Factory that I haven't heard. Two Chapin songs.
Eight Pavone originals. The group is a quartet with Tony Malaby on
tenor and soprano sax, Peter Madsen on piano, and Matt Wilson on
drums. The group has terrific balance, reminiscent of Chapin's
own groups, which relentlessly pursued an avant-garde edge while
keeping in touch with the notion that beauty matters too. Which
is also, more or less, the mission of Pavone's own records.
B+(**)

Art Pepper: Mosaic Select (1956-57 [2005], Mosaic,
3CD).
Pepper never got comfortable. He spent most of his adult life in
jail,and each time he got out he kicked his music up another level.
The bushel of records he cut in the last four years of his life,
after a long stretch in Sing Sing, are among the most amazing in
jazz history. But these sessions, cut for Aladdin following a year
in the Fort Worth slammer for narcotics, and followed quickly by
his more famous Art Pepper Meets the Rhythm Section, were
his first career peak. His previous recordings for Savoy revealed
a sweet-toned Charlie Parker disciple, but here he recasts Parker
in his own voice, much as he would later incorporate Coltrane.
This box adds a couple of alternate takes to the three volues
that Blue Note previously released as The Complete Art Pepper
Aladdin Recordings. The additions are minor, but the music
is so vital it's unfathomable how it ever slipped out of print.
A

Danilo Perez: Live at the Jazz Showcase (2003 [2005],
ArtistShare).
The pianist is impressive, especially on the closing piece where this
threatens to finally take off, but it's taken so long to get there that
I'm not sure the run-up is worth it. Piano trio. Mostly original pieces,
plus two from Monk, one each from Stevie Wonder, Silvio Rodriguez, and
Ruben Blades. With Adam Cruz just working the drum kit this doesn't get
close to the latin percussion standard. I could imagine bumping this up
a grade if I stuck close to it, but it would still be out of the running.
Admittedly, piano trios are tough for me to call. That's why I wait for
the ones which knock me over.
B

John Pizzarelli: Knowing You (2005, Telarc).
A big rebound from that awful Bossa Nova album, but really
just typical fare, with the instrumentation barely lurking behind
his offhand vocals. A song like "Ain't That a Kick in the Head?"
is perfect for him. "God Only Knows" strikes me as an indulgence,
but he handles it reasonably well. Support includes Larry Goldings,
Harry Allen, Ken Peplowski, and his old man, but none stand out.
B

The Essential Tito Puente (1949-63 [2005], RCA/Legacy,
2CD).
A Puerto Rican from Spanish Harlem, Puente took over the drum kit
in Machito's Afro-Cuban band when he was 19, and a decade later
was running his own band, garnering plaudits like "the king of
mambo," or just El Rey. He played anything you can hit with a
stick or mallet, but was best known for timbales -- a kit with
two tuneable drums, cowbells and cymbals. He recorded more than
one hundred albums, working steadily up to his death in 2000,
but his classic recordings date from the '50s, when he as much
as created the craze for mambo and cha-cha. His bands were huge,
the brass driving home every point, the complex percussion flat
out racing. My appetite for salsa, which roughly speaking is
the next generation beyond Puente and Machito, has long been
limited by its slick overkill, but for once the title here is
right: this is essential.
A-

The Best of Tito Puente (20th Century Masters: The Millennium
Collection) (1991-99, Hip-O).
Well down the road -- the first of the RMM albums sampled here was
called The Mambo King: His 100th Album, and the last was cut a
year before he died at age 77; the live "Oyo Como Va" at the end has
seen better days, but everything else is typically bright and
sprightly.
B+(*)

Putumayo Presents: Swing Around the World (1964-2004
[2005], Putumayo World Music).
The ringer here is Clark Terry's "Mumbles," dating back to his 1964
encounter with the Oscar Peterson Trio -- a legendary performance on
one of the finest records either jazz great ever turned in. Terry
and Peterson both had connections to Count Basie, the gold standard
for swing. Nobody else here comes closer than admiring the records.
Yet "Mumbles" slips agreeably into a compilation where only one cut
predates the Squirrel Nut Zippers, the best known of the recent wave
of American nouveau swing bands. The "around the world" concept gets
off in high gear with a good band from Zimbabwe and a better one from
Mauritius, but after that they settle for old-time swing strongholds:
the U.S., Italy (Renzo Arbore sounds like Bobby Darin doing a Dean
Martin impression), and France (Romane keeps the spirit of Django
alive).
B+(*)

Abbey Rader & Billy Bang: Echoes (1999, Abray).
Rader gets top billing because this came out on his label. Bang
wrote all but one of the songs, and leads throughout -- even
recites his poem for Dennis Charles. Still, the drums help to
pace and steady the violinist, and they add the echoes of the
title.
B+(**)

Rader Schwarz Group: The Spirit Inside Us (1998, Timbre).
Abbey Rader is a drummer who developed in the SoHo lofts
before heading to Europe, where he hitched a ride in Gunter Hampel's
big band. Gunter Schwarz is a tenor saxophonist with no other credits
that I'm aware of, but he matches up well with Rader. Zam Johnson
contributes some electronic squelch to go with Ed Schuller's bass
and Bang's violin. It all makes for a nicely balanced, somewhat
understated set of free jazz.
B+(*)

Abbey Rader & Dave Liebman: Cosmos (2001 [2003],
Cadence Jazz).
Rader is a drummer who came to my attention while
researching Billy Bang. He more than held up his end of Echoes,
a duo with Bang, and he holds up his end here as well. The bigger
surprise is how adroitly Liebman handles these duets. His little
used tenor sax is gruff and puckish, but even the soprano, which
has become his main axe of late, retains its tartness.
B+(*)

Phil Ranelin: Inspiration (2004, Wide Hive).
For all intents and purposes, the Tribe is back in business again.
Ranelin is a trombonist who likes big bands because they feel like
big families. He's got nine pieces here, not counting the special
guests, and plenty of them play horns.
B+(**)

Ernest Ranglin: Surfin' (2005, Tropic/Telarc).
A little surf twang to Ranglin's guitar, but the core to his music is
reggae -- he's one of the great session guitarists to ever hark from
Jamaica, so why not go with what got him here? One vocal, for no good
reason I can think of. Delightful record, not that there's much to it.
B+(*)

Marc Ribot: Spiritual Unity (2004 [2005], Pi).
Who is Albert Ayler? And, more importantly, why is everyone so nice
to him, or more properly his memory, all of a sudden? The first is
easy enough: Ayler was a tenor saxophonist who made a mark in 1964
recording several albums that pioneered a new and distinctive path
in avant-garde jazz, what you might call religious passion music,
and continued erratically until his mysterious death in 1970. Before
Ayler the avant-garde tended to be cerebral, dedicated to searching
out new patterns of musicmaking -- examples included Ornette Coleman,
George Russell, Cecil Taylor, Steve Lacy, Eric Dolphy. But Ayler was
a primitivist, his music built out of simple folk tunes and gospels,
and his music was above all cathartic. Coltrane's last period can
be viewed as trying to bridge Ayler and the avant-garde, although
he wasn't very successful at it. Since Ayler's death, others have
followed in his footsteps, most notably Charles Gayle, Frank Lowe,
and David S. Ware, but Ayler himself mostly languished until the
last couple of years, when he's made an astonishing resurgence. One
sign was the welcome back accorded Henry Grimes, who played bass in
Ayler's groups but dropped out of music before Ayler's death. The
comeback accelerated last year when Revenant released a huge box set
of previously unissued Ayler that was reviewed warmly by everyone
who got a copy. (But not by me: I got two copies of the sampler,
but no box.) This record is another step in Ayler's comeback. The
spine credits it to producer-guitarist Marc Ribot, but the front
cover just lists the band members alphabetically: Roy Campbell,
Grimes, Ribot, Chad Taylor. The title, possibly a future group
name in the manner of Yo Miles, comes from Ayler's masterpiece.
The five pieces are all Ayler titles, although I don't see any
attribution in the booklet. The idea here is to rekindle the
process -- not to reproduce Ayler, but to produce like Ayler.
Ribot's guitar replaces the prophet's sax, shifting the timbre
and expanding the dynamics while cutting back the tendency to
overblow. Any loss of energy from that switch is compensated for
by Campbell's trumpet. Ayler's groups often included his brother
Donald on trumpet, but that match up doesn't help much: Donald
was so limited that Campbell could blow rings around Donald even
with his fingers in splints.
A-

Tim Ries: The Rolling Stones Project (2002-04 [2005],
Concord).
Nine Rolling Stones songs (or ten -- "Honky Tonk Women" gets
two takes) followed by a chilldown piece by Ries. Each gets a distinct
studio treatment, with 25 guest musicians weaving in and out of the
lineup, including Ron Wood for one cut, Keith Richards for two, and
Charlie Watts for five -- the most appearances of any guest. Most
tracks have vocals, with Lisa Fischer up three times, Sheryl Crow,
Norah Jones and Claudia Acuña one each. Guitarists include Bill Frisell,
Ben Monder, and John Scofield, as well as the aforementioned Stones.
Ries plays tenor and soprano sax. He put this together over a couple
of years, and the care and patience shows. This struck me as a bad
idea from the start, mostly because tributes with guests tend toward
crass commercial opportunism -- John Scofield's Ray Charles album is
a recent example. Indeed, the industry's so desperate for sales that
the temptation's unavoidable. Moreover, even when a promising idea
does emerge, it gets abandoned with the next guest star. And vocals
skew close enough to the originals that they often beg comparison.
Still, this doesn't come off so badly. For starters, the songbook
holds up, especially less obvious songs like "Slippin' Away" and
"Waiting on a Friend." Frisell is interesting everywhere he appears,
especially so on his near-solo "Ruby Tuesday." Norah Jones' "Wild
Horses" is a choice cut. The ravers have more problems, but at least
they have a first-rate drummer.
B+(**)

Bryn Roberts: Ludlow (2003-04 [2005],
Fresh Sound New Talent).
Another new pianist/composer, placed in a quartet with
Seamus Blake on tenor sax, Drew Gress on bass, and Mark Ferber. Blake
dominates the sound, playing at his usual level, his scattered runs
roughing up the otherwise lush postbop sound.
B+(*)

Adam Rogers: Apparitions (2004 [2005], Criss Cross).
Rogers is an interesting guitarist who doesn't quite fit any of the
niche styles I associate with the craft, and he's by far the most
interesting player on this record. But the record itself is busied
up with tenor saxophonist Chris Potter and pianist Edward Simon
flashing undoubted skills to little effect. Rogers wrote all of
the pieces, and talks in the booklet about how much he likes to
write for other instruments. Also about his interest in classical
music and how he incorporates elements from classical guitar into
his writing. None of which means much to me.
B+(*)

Sonny Rollins: Without a Song (The 9/11 Concert)
(2001 [2005], Milestone).
Rollins picked these seventy-three minutes from a marathon two hour,
forty minute concert in Boston four days after he was evacuated from
his apartment near New York's World Trade Center. But he's too modest,
opting for features with a lot of space for trombonist Clifton Anderson
and pianist Stephen Scott while shortchanging himself. As he says in
his introduction, "music is one of the beautiful things in life." But
when he cuts loose, especially on "Global Warming," his music is an
overpowering life force, even in the wake of so much death. Exxon may
not believe the science, but they'd be fools to doubt him.
A-

Poncho Sanchez: Do It! (2005, Concord Picante).
Veteran conga player, apprenticed in Cal Tjader's band, then set
out on his own around 1980. This is my first taste of his work,
and I have damn little idea how to evaluate it. The percussion is
slicker than the Afro-Cuban things I've been liking. The brass is
tight and punchy. The vocals aren't awful. Overall sounds pretty
good, but I can't begin to quantify that.
PS: Holds up solid enough, especially in the instrumentals where the
riddim rules. Vocals so-so.
B+(*)

Pharoah Sanders: Elevation (1973 [2005], Impulse).
The 18-minute title piece is a rough retread on "A Love Supreme" --
the constant reference inevitably detracts from its originality.
The next two pieces find Sanders without horn -- the pieces are
built around Joe Bonner's piano and myriad percussion, the latter
a piece of Nigerian juju with Sanders' vocal striving to keep up
with Bonner's piano. The last two pieces are rather shapeless,
the psychedelic percussion winning out in the end.
B-

Randy Sandke and the Inside Out Band: Outside In
(2005, Evening Star).
This group has devolved from the Inside Out Collective to the Inside
Out Band -- the difference being that the members' contribution to
the song list dropped from one per each to one each for Ray Anderson
and Marty Ehrlich, with Sandke making up the difference. The band
still sparkles, but the easy blues cops from the previous are few
and far between, while Sandke's harmonic theories get more play. In
other words, this one's less fun -- except, that is, a spoken word
thing called "Mobius Trip" consisting of a series of "I went to X"
set-ups and "someone said" punch lines: "I went to Birdland, and
someone said, 'jazz will never die as long as people can listen to
it with their feet.'"
A-

Randy Sandke and the Metatonal Band: The Mystic Trumpeter
(2003-04 [2005], Evening Star).
Small group, but with three frontline horns this moves like a big band.
I found it awkward at first, perhaps the residue of the Walt Whitman poem
that inspired the title suite, but the second half, "Symphony for Six,"
managed to put that awkwardness to good use. Sandke has written a book
on harmonic theory, and this seems to be his prime testing ground. Not
much of the traditional swing he favored, even though the musicians are
similarly inclined. Strange to think of him as a modernist, but here he
is.
B+

The Randy Sandke Quartet: Trumpet After Dark
(2005, Evening Star).
Subtitled "jazz in a meditative mode," but sounds at least as much
like quiet storm make-out music. Sandke's quartet includes the
estimable Bill Charlap, but they are supplemented by Parthenia,
described as "a consort of viols" -- a string quartet of some
sort. Slow and pretty.
A-

Arturo Sandoval: Live at the Blue Note (2004 [2005],
Half Note, CD+DVD).
The Cuban trumpeter tends to go over the top, but this record suggests
that that's the only way he clearly identifies himself. This is more
moderate in many respects, but still messy, and it leaves me more
confused than annoyed. Some fertile patches here, but lots of weeds,
too. Comes with a DVD, which doesn't matter to me.
B

Sangha Quartet: Fear of Roaming (2003 [2004], Fresh Sound).
In the "New Talent" series, but none of these guys are new: Seamus Blake,
Kevin Hays, Larry Grenadier, Bill Stewart. Blake and Hays split the
writing/arranging credits, aside from a piece by Björk which starts out
warbly but over ten minutes develops into an interesting and powerful
piece, with Hays vamping on Fender Rhodes and Blake punctuating on
tenor sax. Hays favors the Fender Rhodes here, using piano mostly for
accents. This gives Blake a more cushy level of support, with less
emphasis on trade-offs. Which should make Blake the leader. He's been
a notable sideman for quite a while, but given the chance to lead he
remains discreet.
B+(*)

That's What I Say: John Scofield Plays the Music of
Ray Charles (2005, Verve).
Another entry in the Ray Charles Sweepstakes -- oh, the things that
a bestselling album, a hit motion picture, and dying (in no particular
order) does for a franchise! Like most tributes, this doesn't stand
up all that well against the original -- an effect underscored by the
half-dozen singers, of whom only John Mayer is good for a passable
imitation. (But then the inevitable Aaron Neville and Dr. John have
trouble these days imitating themselves.) I'm conflicted about this.
On the one hand I'd rather dispense with the vocals and let the jazz
masters just do what they presumably do best, which is to work their
tricks against the melodies. On the other hand, I'm not sure that
Scofield is up to it, although his limited takes on pieces that any
of us can supply mental words to -- "Busted," "Let's Go Get Stoned,"
"Hit the Road Jack" -- are fine, but not so much so that the vocals
don't provide a palpable lift. Larry Goldings is indispensible. No
significant horns, which might have been an alternative. But most
likely the market research called out for vocals, so that's what
they did.
B+(*)

Shining: In the Kingdom of Kitsch You Will Be a Monster
(2005, Rune Grammofon).
Jørgen Munkeby wrote these pieces, and plays all manner of reeds,
keyboards, and string instruments here, although he also gets help
with the percussion. Some interesting sounds, some interesting
moments, but I can't make much sense out of it.
B-

Rebecca Shrimpton and Eric Hofbauer: Madman's Moon
(2005, CNM).
Hofbauer's a guitarist who has done good work in the past, but is so
low key here it's hard to notice him. Shrimpton is a dusky vocalist
who never gets out of second gear.
B-

Adam Simmons Toy Band: Happy Jacket (2002, Dr. Jim's).
Simmons plays saxophones from bass to sopranino, plus a little bass
clarinet and shakuhachi. In that mode this is good, clean avant fun.
But the band's name reflects another dimension: all members also dabble
in toy instruments. Don't do it enough that it takes over the album,
but it does toss in the occasional oddball sound.
B+(**)

Simply Red: Simplified (2005, Verve Forecast).
AMG describes them as a "British soul-pop band," formed in 1984.
This is their tenth album. Don't understand what they're doing on
a jazz label, but maybe it's silly these days to regard Verve
Forecast as anything of the sort. Mick Hucknall has a pretty
voice, soft and somewhat soulful. Some songs are re-recorded from
earlier albums, and they appear in various arrangements, like the
electro-funk of "Something Got Me Started," the big band (with sax
solo) of "Sad Old Red," the string-drenched ballad of "For Your
Babies," a standard croon with bare piano and eventually a taste
of flugelhorn on "Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye."
B-

Sirone Bang Ensemble: Configuration (2004 [2005],
Silkheart).
A live recording from CBGB's in New York, the sound is a bit thin
and hollow, and the applause is real but hardly rapturous -- not a
real jazz venue, I guess. But the pairing of the Revolutionary
Ensemble bassist with violinist Bang was meant to generate lots
of friction, and for good measure they brought along Charles Gayle,
who for once blows within the limits of his name, as opposed to his
usual hurricane force. Perhaps in honor of the venue, there's a
certain rockishness to their approach. In particular, "Freedom
Flexibility" works a call-and-response motif where straight lines
are answered freely. Don't know where they found drummer Tyshawn
Sorey, but he has a blast.
A-

Alan Skidmore Quintet: Once Upon a Time (1970 [2005],
Vocalion).
Another one from the early days of England's avant-garde, with John
Taylor and Kenny Wheeler more florid than you'd expect, and the leader
channeling Coltrane. Harry Miller and Tony Oxley are also on board.
Skidmore is actually the least well known of the group, but he keeps
working and has some records out recently (not that I've heard them).
B+(**)

Slammin: All-Body Band (2003-04 [2005], Crosspulse).
Acapella group, with "beat box" and "body music" -- Keith Terry is
the source of the latter. A quote from the website explains: "claps
his hands, rubs his palms, finger-pops, stamps his feet, brushes his
soles, slaps his butt and belly, pops his cheek, whomps his chest,
skips and slides, sings and babbles and coughs, building his music
out of a surprisingly varied register of sounds and clever rhythmic
variations." Not bad. Not jazz. Not something I find particularly
interesting.
B

Jim Snidero: Close Up (2004, Milestone).
Mainstream album with a bright boppish flair courtesy of the leader's
alto sax. Eric Alexander joins on five cuts. Solid all around.
B+(*)

Luciana Souza: Duos II (2005, Sunnyside).
Brazilian songs, just voice and guitar, the latter divvied up between
four guitarists. In many ways this is the core of Brazilian jazz, but
it's so stripped down it's hard to find the groove. Which probably
isn't the point. I doubt that I'll really warm up to this, but another
listen is advisable.
PS: Further listening lets these voice-plus-guitar duos shape up. It's
still too minimal and too subtle for me to get enthusiastic, but it
makes for attractive background music, with alluring details when one
happens to focus.
B+(*)

Cinzia Spata: 93-03 (2005, Azzurra Music).
She's a Sicilian vocalist who loves to scat, or just let her voice
float around melodic curves. I feel rather indifferent about what
she does -- for pure texture, give me Donny McCaslin's soprano sax.
But the hidden gem here is Marc Copland's piano, which impresses
even when he's just filling in cracks.
B+(*)

Bobo Stenson Trio: Serenity (1999 [2000], ECM, 2CD).
Another background disc, or two in this case -- the total doesn't run
a lot over 80 minutes, but they decided not to cut it. As noted too
often, I've never got the hang of describing piano trios -- what I
like, what I don't, and why, but I know one when I hear one, and this
one works. Calm, deliberately paced, subtle, refined, stately. None
of those attributes can be depended on, but they all work here. One
common denominator in all the better piano trio albums is that the
bass and drums hold up their ends equally. Anders Jormin is often
fascinating here. Jon Christensen, of course, is a given. By the way,
Stenson was the leader on my all-time favorite Jan Garbarek album,
Witchi-Tai-To. The leader of a close second in the Garbarek
sweepstakes was Keith Jarrett, as frantic as Stenson is calm.
A-

Nicola Stilo/Toninho Horta: Duets (1999 [2005],
Adventure Music).
Horta plays guitar and sings in Brazil's chanson
lite. Stilo plays flute, inevitably more lite. The result has some
appeal, in large part because it seems so unpolished, but it's
still awful lite.
B

The Stryker/Slagle Band: Live at the Jazz Standard
(2005, Zoho).
Two veterans from the '80s, when they recorded consistently solid albums
for Steeplechase. Together, they're still consistently solid.
B+(*)

John Surman: Way Back When (1969 [2005], Cuneiform).
One wonders whether the title existed when this session was recorded,
or merely tacked on when it was rediscovered a third of a century
later. Looking at the booklet photo of Surman it's hard to imagine
that anyone that young had such a concept. With his Beatle haircut,
Sgt. Pepper mustache, and paisley shirt he could hardly have been
thinking more than 3-4 years back, if that. On the other hand, he
was even then a near legend for his work with Mike Westbrook and
John McLaughlin, and next up was a group with Barre Phillips and
Stu Martin brash enough to call themselves The Trio. This set was
built around Brian Odgers' electric bass and John Taylor's electric
piano, a steady pulse that owes more to soul jazz than fusion, but
it sets a firm foundation for Surman to work many variations on a
little figure. Surman was especially distinctive on soprano sax,
giving the instrument a firmness that one expects only from heavier
horns, such as his light and dexterous baritone sax. Mike Osborne
joins on alto for the last two pieces.
A-

Tierney Sutton Band: I'm With the Band (2005, Telarc).
I take it as a brave move that she identifies with the band instead of
the spotlight, but it would be smarter if she had a better band. They
go with the flow, but rarely set it. It's also brave to tear at these
venerable chestnuts the way she does, but she doesn't have the voice
to get much traction with them, even if her technical skills are rock
solid. These strike me more as endemic problems than personal -- how
many ways are they to do "Cheek to Cheek" or "I Get a Kick Out of You"?
Pierre Dørge came up with a "Cheek to Cheek" that I adore, but he had
a singer and a band that made it sound luxurious. It's actually one
of the better things on this album, and it still feels rushed and thin.
B

Steve Swell/Perry Robinson: Invisible Cities (2004,
Drimala).
A duo, just trombone (Swell) and clarinet (Robinson), with no rhythm,
no bottom, no filler, nothing chordal -- nothing to push it along, to
fluff it up, to put it over. It shouldn't work and, well, it doesn't
work, except to separate the serious pontificators from the benighted
slobs who merely enjoy music. Which is to say that if you pay careful
attention you might get some of the wit, the puns, the whirligigs and
whatnot, the clever little things that two rather amazing musicians
can slip past the unwary. On the other hand, as background music you
might as well listen to a defective vacuum cleaner sucking up marbles.
I don't really approve, but I'm somewhat impressed.
B+(*)

Gabor Szabo: Spellbinder (1966 [2005], Impulse).
A jazz guitarist from Hungary -- left the country just before the
1956 crackdown -- offers clean metallic picking over the latin beats
of Willie Bobo and Victor Pantoja, with Ron Carter and Chico Hamilton
steadying the light swing. His deadpan "Bang Bang" vocal works as a
novelty. Not certain about how much his folk music background plays
into this mild exotica, but he's much affected by the gypsy jazz
masters like Django Reinhardt.
B+(**)

Susan Tedeschi: Hope and Desire (2005, Verve Forecast).
She's a blues singer, one of a flock of white girls to find a niche
there since the early '90s. She used to have something of a rep as a
guitarist too, but the guitar credits here are all in the capable hands
of Doyle Bramhall and Derek Trucks. She used to sing blues songs too,
but Jagger-Richards, Dylan, Redding, DeMent, Stevie Wonder, even Percy
Mayfield and Dorsey Burnette are at least one step removed. Joe Henry
produced. One suspects he had something to do with the song choices,
and most everything else. She's a strong but indistinct singer. Which
adds up to an intelligent but pointless roots rock album. Not much of
a stretch, either for Henry or Tedeschi.
B-

Stanley Turrentine: That's Where It's At (1962 [2005],
Blue Note).
Mr. T's robust tenor is in full swing, especially
when pianist Les McCann picks up the pace, which is most of the time;
on the other hand, the ballads drag a bit compared to T's more typical
organ-based soul jazz, but not enough to dampen spirits.
B+(***)

Gebhard Ullmann/Chris Dahlgren/Peter Herbert: BassX3
(2004, Drimala).
Dahlgren and Herbert play bass, although Dahlgren is also credited with
toys and electronics. Ullmann plays bass flute and bass clarinet. Like
his other recent records, this is slow, odd, abstract, but at least it
provides an interesting setting, a little more conventional than either
the big band or the clarinet trio. Some interesting stuff, but marginal.
B+(*)

Introducing the Javier Vercher Trio (2003 [2004],
Fresh Sound).
Young (b. 1978) Spanish tenor saxophone player, lives in New York now.
Studied with Bob Moses, who contributes three songs here. Vercher wrote
the rest, except for the lead-off piece from Ornette Coleman. He is a
feisty player, willing to get bruised up a bit for his art. I'm not yet
sure what that art is: this sounds much like a lot of other people's
work, but too roughly so make one want to make fine distinctions. A
fun record, nonetheless.
B+(*)

The David S. Ware Quartets: Live in the World
(1998-2003 [2005], Thirsty Ear, 3CD).
Three discs, three concerts, three drummers. Aside from the drummers,
the Ware Quartet is the longest running small group in history. Ware
almost never works outside of the group, but his cohorts, William
Parker and Matthew Shipp, have distinguished careers in their own
right, and their own stardom gets more play in these looser concert
gigs than on the studio albums. Looking back, the energy jolt that
arrived with Susie Ibarra and the shift to electronics heralded by
Guillermo E. Brown may have been side-effects of the maturation of
the three mainstays. That the drummers matter less is made clear
on the date with the redoubtable Hamid Drake sitting, and merely
blending, in.
A-

David Weiss: The Mirror (2004, Fresh Sound).
This is a largish group with a lot of horn-power: Weiss plays trumpet,
plus there are alto sax, tenor sax, and on the last cuts trombone and
baritone sax or bass clarinet. This is crackling hot postbop, right
from the gate, with more subtle variations ensuing. Like much on this
label, I'm impressed by the thought and craft that has gone into it,
and I recognize the beauty of the voicings, but . . . well, I can't
get excited about it.
B+(*)

Ezra Weiss: Persephone (2005, Umoja).
There's a lot going on here, but I particularly like Weiss when I'm
able to isolate his piano. The clutter comes from three horns, and
it would take much more time to sort them out than seems worthwhile
at this juncture. Michael Philip Mossman is a trumpet player I regard
highly; Antonio Hart is an alto saxist I'm not much impressed by. But
I can't tell you that one's a plus and the other's a minus. This just
isn't that simple a record. Thoughtfully arranged, complex modern
postbop. Not a big turn on for me, but hard not to respect.
B+(*)

Björn Wennås: Static (2004 [2005], Beartones).
Young Swedish guitarist, moved to Boston in 1999 to attend Berklee,
and recording this album there. It's unusual in several regards, but
mostly for featuring singer Carmen Marsico on four tracks. When she
sings, or more commonly scats into the stratosphere, the music takes
strange curves, swerving for unusual dramatic effect. I don't much
like the effect, but it has its own peculiar integrity. Phil Grenadier
plays trumpet on most of those pieces, providing a contrasting voice.
The other pieces are simpler, providing a more basic framework for
the guitar. At his best he sounds distinctive and refreshing. Most
likely there will be better albums coming.
B

Michael White: The Land of Spirit and Light (1973 [2005],
Impulse).
A violinist, born 1933, recorded quite
a bit in the '70s -- five albums on Impulse, two each on Capitol
and Elektra -- and hardly at all before or since. This one is
his consensus pick -- AMG calls it "a spiritual jazz classic,"
whatever that means. Impulse in the '60s was best known as John
Coltrane's label, but after his death in 1967 the ship steered
increasingly toward widow Alice's otherworldly concerns, and
this sort of fits. So this is a clash of styles, with White's
violin weaving between Bob King's guitar and Prince Lasha's
woodwinds and various percussionists, achieving a form of world
fusion rooted in no place in particular. It gets most interesting
when Cecil McBee's bass picks up the groove and the odds and ends
flow together.
B+(*)

Mary Lou Williams: Mary Lou's Mass (1969-72 [2005],
Smithsonian/Folkways).
I find this unlistenable, which is a shame given
how marvelous the few wordless pieces can be; written for choreographer
Alvin Ailey, fragments whose drama is meant to be seen flounder like
opera without the visual action, and the overbearing religiosity adds
the dead weight of otherworldliness when the initial title, "Music
for Peace," should do us more good in the here and now.
B

Gini Wilson: The San Francisco ChamberJazz Quartet
(2005, Music Wizards).
Alternate title, SFCJQ -- sometimes
it's hard to tell, and sometimes you wonder whether the artists
know either. The ChamberJazz name is fitting: the group projects
a polite and cozy intimacy. Wilson plays piano and wrote most of
the pieces. Steve Heckman plays soprano and tenor sax, clarinet,
and flute. Both are appealing, but the framework feels rather
constrained. Several pieces with guest vocalist Jackie Ryan are
neither here nor there.
B

Matt Wilson's Arts & Crafts: Wake Up! (To What's
Happening) (2004, Palmetto).
Wilson explains: "The more I play improvised music the less I want
to understand it. . . . You see, I want to approach music with the
same innocent playfulness I see in my children. Their awareness
allows them to flow effortlessly with new discoveries. Their passion
allows them to act on their instints, often with disregard to what
anyone else thinks. . . . Their inspiration has recently elevated
my enthusiasm to a new carefree level." In other words, he doesn't
care that this is an eclectic mix of recycled tunes that each goes
its own peculiar way. But he's lucky that Terell Stafford manages
to hold it all together. And it don't hurt that the drummer is an
ace.
B+(**)

Mike Wofford: Live at Athenaeum Jazz (2004, Capri).
Nothing with Peter Washington and Victor Lewis can be bad, but they
distinguish themselves here more by being steady than by their
virtuosity. Wofford is a fine pianist, and this not-very-familiar
standards program gives him a good workout. Very nice, as these
piano trio things go.
B+(***)

Andrea Wolper: The Small Hours (2002 [2005], Varis
One Jazz).
Another slow vocalist. Her voice is more flexible than Rebecca
Shrimpton's, and in this context Ron Affif's swing-influenced guitar
works better. Bassist Ken Filiano is also a plus, and Frank London
makes a tasteful appearance on trumpet. All of which add up, but not
to very much.
B

Lizz Wright: Dreaming Wide Awake (2004 [2005],
Verve Forecast).
Only three originals (counting two co-credits), so she's
still not much of a singer-songwriter. The only recognizable covers
are by Neil Young and Chester Powers ("Get Together" -- Youngbloods
hit, also Chad Mitchell, We Five, Carpenters, Ray Stevens, Indigo
Girls), so it's not clear that she's an interpretive singer either.
Interesting voice, but with the guitar leading the slow, unsexy
grooves she sounds much like Tracy Chapman -- more cosmopolitan
than folkie, to be sure, but maybe that's just her producers?
Several songs caught my interest, but didn't sustain it. Probably
an improvement over Salt.
B

Stich Wynston's Modern Surfaces: Transparent Horizons
(2004 [2005], TCB).
Guitarist Geoff Young wrote six songs to drummer
(and to a lesser extent, pianist) Wynston's four. The quartet fills
out with saxophonist Mike Murley and bassist Jim Vivian. Recorded in
Canada, the group maintains affinities to Paul Bley and Kenny Wheeler,
a soft and spacious strain of avant abstraction. Pleasant enough as
wallpaper, but hard to tell where it's going.
B+(*)

Larry Young: Of Love and Peace (1966 [2004], Blue Note).
Young pushed the Hammond B-3 organ further than any other musician of
his era, moving from his early blues albums into new thing territory.
His masterpiece was *Unity*, cut in 1965 with an all-star lineup --
Woody Shaw, Joe Henderson, Elvin Jones -- that necessarily tied down
all the loose edges. His follow-up had no such constraints: Jones was
replaced by two no-name drummers, Henderson by two lesser saxophonists
(his steady bandmate George Morgan and the ubiquitous James Spaulding),
while Shaw gave way to Eddie Gale, a fiery trumpeter then working with
Cecil Taylor. The group pushed Young harder and farther than ever,
and he responded with some of the most vigorous organ ever cut --
for three cuts, anyway. The fourth and final, a meditation on Islam
called "Falaq," is slow and spacious.
A-

Zucchero: Zucchero & Co. (2005, Concord/Hear
Music).
Silly me. I had filed this in my jazz prospects list because
that's my first guess for unfamiliar artists on jazz labels, but
this isn't jazz, nothing close. And, following AMG, I had filed the
listing under Latin, but Zucchero, né Adelmo Fornaciari, comes from
Italy, which may claim on a technicality, but I won't sustain it.
In any case, he mostly sings in English, and the few possible Latin
songs are mucked up beyond classification. I also figured this as
new, but he starts off singing with a dead guy. Depending on how
you read the booklet, the dates are 2001-04 or 1988-2003, with the
latter most plausible, given that it intersects with Miles Davis'
lifespan. About the only thing I got right was to leave it on the
shelf 4-5 months before playing it. Don't expect to ever play it
again, either.
C-

Music: Current count 11378 [11337] rated (+41), 820 [841] unrated (-21).
December Recycled Goods is up. Jazz Consumer Guide is up. Working on
year-end issues, just trying to clean up. Found a couple of good things
I wasn't expecting on the shelf. Also found some junk, which I was
expecting.

Clint Black: Spend My Time (2004, Equity Music
Group): Any doubts about why "She's Leavin'" are easily answered
by playing the song. When his voice jumps an octave, you suspect
he's putting you on. But the rest of the album makes you doubt
it. C-

Marty Brown: Here's to the Honky Tonks (1996,
Hightone): He did three albums for MCA from 1991-94, starting with
one called High and Dry that got a lot of favorable press.
(I remember Ken Tucker writing a Country Consumer Guide in the
Village Voice. Lasted one column, and as I recall Brown was a
Pick Hit. Christgau acknowledged it with a B+, but I felt I got
snookered and gave it a B-.) This is his fourth, and ten years
later possibly his last. In an era of neo-traditionalism, Brown
tried his damnedest to be a paleo-traditionalism. His drawl is
so extreme it sounds like an exaggeration. Not so dislikable
this time, but maybe that's because there's so much less riding
on this minor label release. B

Ry Cooder: Chávez Ravine (2005, Nonesuch):
We've heard much from the Brooklyn side about the hole ripped
out of the city's heart when Walter O'Malley sent the Dodgers
packing west, but Cooder asks a reasonable question nobody else
has thought to ask: what was lost when Los Angeles ripped up the
Mexican neighborhood of Chávez Ravine to make way for the Dodgers'
new ballpark?
A-

Nanci Griffith: Hearts in Mind (2004, New Door):
Inside the booklet: "This recording is dedicated to the memory of
every soldier and every civilian lost to the horrors of war." First
song, "A Simple Life": "I want a simple life/Like my mother/One
true love for my older years/I Don't want your wars/To take my
children." A couple of post-Vietnam songs. One called "Mountain
of Sorrow" about 9/11. Not every song is so occupied, and in the
end there are more cuts than good songs. But this starts strong,
and the sentiment is right. B+(*)

Petra Haden and Bill Frisell (2005, Sovereign
Artists): She's Charlie Haden's little girl -- spent a couple of
years in a pretty good alt-rock band called That Dog, recorded
a solo album called Imaginaryland, then came out with a
couple of unclassifiable objects this year. One was a remake of
The Who Sell Out -- haven't heard it, and can't quite
conceive of it, given how little sense I've been able to make
out of the original. This is the other, a duo with guitarist
Bill Frisell, produced by Tucker Martine, who seems like the
ideal intermediary between these two. One original each here,
the slightest items partly because the covers are choice and
far ranging -- Elliot Smith and Dave Grohl don't impress me
much as the first two choices, but they're followed by something
traditional from Tuva and "Moon River," and later on by "When You
Wish Upon a Star," Stevie Wonder's "I Believe," and "John Hardy
Was a Desperate Man." She has a high, clear voice without much
effect, so it seems strange to call her an interpretive vocalist,
but that's what she is and does. In this, Frisell is a marvelous
foil. He's no more obviously a jazz guitarist here than Haden is
a jazz vocalist, but he frames everything she does, and that
tinkly jewel-like sound he gets adorns her like fancy crystal
earrings you know she'd never wear. Choice cut: "I Believe."
B+(**)

High Rollers! From Las Vegas ([2005], Capitol):
Spare parts in this series, including two songs each by three
Vegas standbys without standalone comps: Peggy Lee, Sammy Davis
Jr., Nat King Cole. All singers are backed by smashing big bands,
plus Nelson Riddle and Billy May get their own features. No real
surprises, but would be nice to hear more from Lee.
B+(***)

King Crimson: Lizard (1970, EG): Progressivism
with a twist of jazz, with Mel Collins on reeds and Robert Fripp
on the usual Frippertronics, all saddled to Peter Sinfield's
"words & pictures." Don't really have a good feel for this
in short exposure, so this grade is tentative in intent, but
final in that I don't expect to revisit it soon. Can't really
be much better. Could, I suppose, be worse. B

Marian McPartland: In My Life (1993, Concord):
Took a brief break from her Piano Jazz albums to hear some
real music. Her trio swings easily on a range of tunes from Alec
Wilder to Ornette Coleman, but most of the record is taken over
by guest Chris Potter, who has rarely sounded better. A-

Wayne Newton: Mr. Las Vegas (1963-67 [2005],
Capitol). "Oddly, for someone so closely connected to the city,
Wayne Newton never recorded a live album in Las Vegas. Back in
1964, however, Capitol did record Newton live at the Crescendo
Nightclub in Hollywood, California. As a bonus, we've included
two tracks from that performance here to showcase Newton's appeal
in a live environment." So when/where was the rest of this recorded?
I gather from AMG thes the first 19 cuts are studio, which puts
them into the 1963-67 timeframe when he recorded for Capitol.
Aside from his signature hit "Danke Schoen," every song here on
this thinly disguised best-of has been done better by someone
else -- someone with a name like Sinatra, Cole, Darin, Martin,
Bennett, Armstrong. The surprise is how good these second-tier
performances sound. At first it seemed like he came too late to
cash in as a big band crooner, but he got in on Las Vegas early
enough to make a fortune, and never left. B+

Todd Snider: That Was Me 1934-1998 (1994-98 [2005], Hip-O):
Snider is a singer-songwriter who can perform credibly with just
his guitar for accompaniment, which these days makes him a folk
singer. Any doubts about that were dispelled by his live album,
Near Truths and Hotel Rooms (2003, Oh Boy), where his
between-songs humor improves songs that were pretty funny in the
first place. Those songs came from three albums on MCA and two
more on John Prine's Oh Boy label, and this usefully condenses
the former. He works in familiar grooves -- the first album's
hidden track, "Talking Seattle Grunge Rock Blues," is straight
out of Dylan; "I Can't Complain" does Prine like Strayhorn did
Ellington -- so he has to get by on his wit and wisdom. Among
his most memorable is his critique of "Easy Money": "you get a
man strung out on green/he'll give up everything he's got/for
just one shot at havin' it all."
A-

Soweto Gospel Choir: Voices From Heaven (2005,
Shanachie): 32 voices, more than enough to elaborate a mixed bag
of South African and American gospel themes, but such obvious
fare as "Amazing Grace" and "Many Rivers to Cross" benefits
little from such care. B

Soweto Gospel Choir: Blessed (2005, Shanachie):
better, as if they took their Ladysmith Black Mambazo comparisons
to heart and did some homework; more African, which is the point;
still too much English -- the more camouflage the better, I figure,
but I'm always willing to make an exception for "Oh Happy Day."
B+(*)

Martha Wainwright (2005, Zoë): Pretty good half
a song, "When the Day Is Short," until it picks up speed. Before
that point this is pretty indescript. After it just gets weirder.
"Bloody Mother F***ing A**hole" doesn't offer a verse up to its
chorus. "TV Show" strums along ominously. I suspect weirder is
better, but I'm not sure if the distinctions are worth the trouble
at this point.
B

Diane Wahto, of Wichita's Peace and Social Justice Center, asked for
someone to respond to Rep. Todd Tiahrt's op-ed column in the
Wichita
Eagle today. I wrote the following back to her mailing list. The
Eagle doesn't publish any of my letters, and this one is certainly
too long, but the points are worth registering here:

President Bush's "plan for victory" reminds me that long ago, when the
U.S. was mired in the Vietnam quagmire, Senator George Aiken proposed
that we simply "declare victory and go home." Aiken's successor in
Congress these days is Rep. John Murtha, who argues that the U.S. has
done all we can in Iraq, so now's the time to "redeploy" our troops.
Both Aiken and Murtha sought to salvage some measure of self-respect
for America after foolish and deceitful military adventures. Both were
attacked by hawks, insisting that victory would be ours if only we had
the resolve to win.

Judging from foot-soldier Todd Tiahrt's op-ed (Resolve to win in Iraq),
Bush's "plan" still needs some fine tuning. This is probably because
the "plan" was constructed not by someone knowledgeable about Iraq but
by PR whiz Peter Feaver, whose research found that the word "victory"
would elicit a positive response from the American electorate. From
the beginning, the war over Iraq has had another front, the war for
the Americans' resigned consent, if not necessarily for our hearts
and minds. When Bush took office no one outside of a few neocons and
Iraqi expatriates on the CIA payroll wanted the U.S. to invade and
occupy Iraq. The Bush administration was masterful in manipulating
fear of WMD, hope for freedom, revenge for 9/11, and the prospect of
lucrative business deals, while arguing that there was no down side:
that Iraqis would welcome us with flowers, that Iraqi oil would pay
for reconstruction. They had more trouble convincing the world, but
through bribery and intimidation stitched together a "coalition of
the willing," which PR-wise was a good enough substitute for U.N.
sanction, but in the end they did exactly what they wanted to do:
march into Iraq, move into Saddam Hussein's mansions and prisons,
and clumsily wreck the country.

Bush was able to win on the home front because the propaganda war
is fought in the realm of imagination, where carefully researched
words like "victory" and "resolve," "freedom" and "democracy," and
the "war on terrorism" resonate powerfully. Unfortunately, the
other front -- the one in Iraq -- is stuck in reality. The U.S.
has been in retreat there since Bush backed down to Ayatollah
al-Sistani and scheduled elections. America's chosen candidate
in last January's elections, Iyad Allawi, received less than 15%
of the vote, while Sistani's UIA received a majority. There will
be another round of elections this week which the UIA, even more
dominated by pro-Iranian SCIRI and anti-American Sadr, will no
doubt win. Most Iraqis by now realize that the U.S. will be no
help in reconstructing Iraq -- Merle Haggard is in tune with the
American public in insisting that we rebuild "America First" --
and that the U.S. creates more terrorists than it kills. So it
is only a short matter of time before the democratic government
of Iraq that Tiahrt is so proud of tells us to take a hike.

Back in Vietnam, when the Diem government embarrassed us, we
just staged a coup, installing more compliant "leaders." After
all the proselytizing about democracy, that hardly seems like
an option in Iraq. Far easier it would be to tout capturing
Saddam Hussein and establishing democratic rule, declare that
to be victory, and gracefully bow out. Maybe all this newfound
victory talk is just PR paving the way to accept what otherwise
might be construed as defeat. Our greatest danger right now is
that the people like Bush and Tiahrt who sold us this war are
so desperate to avoid the tag of defeat that, like Johnson and
Nixon in Vietnam, they might choose instead to escalate the war,
to prolong the damage. Even today, hawks blame the American
people for losing their resolve and thereby losing Vietnam.
But look back at history and you'll see that the Vietnamese
fought the French and Japanese for thirty years before the
Americans showed up in force, and you'll realize that had we
not left they'd be fighting us still. The "course" in Iraq
eventually leads home, no matter how much Bush procrastinates.
The Iraqis don't want us there. We don't want to be there.
The only resolve we need is to recognize that reality trumps
our fantasies, and to punish the fantasists come election
time.

I hadn't thought much about the analogies to Vietnam before,
but it occurs to me now that the anti-Diem coup was one of the
most utterly arrogant things that the U.S. ever did. The message
there was that our mission of fighting communism is more important
than the interests of the people we were supposedly fighting for.
Tiahrt's letter is full of the same arrogance, especially when
he talks about terrorism. Some excerpts:

By rooting out the terrorists and making Iraq the central
battleground in the global war on terrorism rather than the United
States, we are indeed making America safer. However, we must support
our military and allow it to finish the job it has started to ensure
our country's future security.

[ . . . ]

Iraq is paramount in the terrorist strategy to destroy Western
civilization. A July 9 letter from Ayman al-Zawahiri to Abu Musab
al-Zarqawi, two senior al-Qaida members, clearly articulated the
terrorists' goals.

First, the terrorists will force American and coalition troops out
of Iraq. Second, they will destabilize the democratically elected
Iraqi government and replace the region's moderate Muslim
governments with Islamic jihadists, creating a Pan-Islamic state.
Third, they will use Iraq to launch attacks against the West,
including the United States. The terrorists also call on using the
media to forward these goals.

This is the reality in Iraq -- the reality facing our troops every
day. The terrorists want to kill us and destroy our way of life.

[ . . . ]

Disengagement in Iraq will not bring peace; it will embolden enemies
to move the war back to the United States and resume direct attacks
on American citizens.

The terrorists did not stop with the bombing of the World Trade
Center in 1993, the 1996 bombing of the Khobar Towers, the 1998
bombings of two east African U.S. Embassies, or the 2000 attack on
the USS Cole. Al-Qaida still killed 3,000 Americans on Sept. 11, 2001.

The terrorists will not stop if we leave Iraq. The terrorists will
not stop until they are destroyed.

[ . . . ]

We must be vigilant, and we must win. Only then will America truly
be safe from terrorism.

First point is that the al-Zawahiri letter is almost certainly
a forgery. When this letter first appeared, Juan Cole noted several
phrases that were inconsistent with Arabic that al-Zawahiri would
have used. In any case, the destruction of western civilization
has never been an al-Qaeda goal -- they're more modestly concerned
with saving Islamic civilization. They view their struggle as a
defensive jihad -- that means, in defense against enemies of Islam
who over the last two centuries have attacked and occupied Islamic
lands, in many cases installing quislings to do our bidding. One
thing that's relatively distinctive about Bin Laden and Zawahiri
is that they dare to attack the "far enemy" (the U.S. and narrowly
defined allies) as well as the "near enemy."

When the U.S. invaded Iraq we did two things that played straight
into Al-Qaeda's hands: we took down Saddam Hussein's secular Baathist
regime, which had been one of Al-Qaeda's most effective near enemies,
and we put ourselves in their place. In other words, we promoted
ourselves from "far enemy" to "near enemy" -- the argument that we're
fighting them there instead of here is a matter of perspective. Try
looking at it from their side: we've just served them up 160,000
prime targets, that they can attack without having to travel half way
around the world, learn English, wangle visas, etc. Moreover, we've
turned 25 million Iraqis into targets, as we make them choose: either
they're with us, in which case Al-Qaeda tries to kill them, or they're
against us, in which case we try to kill them. Subsequently, we've
proven that we can't protect Iraqis who choose, and that we have so
little skills for distinguishing among Iraqis that we often detain,
torture, and/or kill Iraqis who aren't necessarily against us.

As a script, this is too stupid to take seriously, yet it's what
the Bush administration has done. One clue is that most of these
arguments are recycled from Vietnam, another war we fought there
so we wouldn't have to fight here, another war aginst fanatics out
to destroy our way of life. No one seems to have thought of the
counterargument that had we waited to fight the war here we would
have won. Given that the U.S. cannot successfully subdue Vietnam
or Iraq, what are the odds that Vietnam or Iraq could successfully
invade and occupy America?

Of course, that was never really the issue. The problem is that
Americans have no clue what their government really does abroad.
Al-Qaeda never fingered Sweden or Switzerland as the far enemy,
even though they are if anything more civilized western nations
than the U.S. Until Al-Qaeda, Americans at home never had to pay
any price for what the U.S. did abroad, which is a big part of
the reason Americans are so convinced of their innocence, indeed
of their benevolence. 9/11 should have been a wake-up call, an
occasion for Americans to take a hard, close look for whatever it
was that the U.S. government had done that may have led Al-Qaeda
to decide that their attack on us was just. But it wasn't -- it
just became an excuse to make matters worse.

The other thing that the argument about fighting there instead
of here says is that their lives don't matter like our lives do.
There's nothing terribly surprising about believing this -- most
people do -- but it is the height of arrogance to act on it, and
off the scale of hypocrisy to assert that we're killing them to
help them achieve freedom. When Bush talks of victory in Iraq,
I have no idea what he means because it's impossible to resolve
all the contradictions in his rhetoric. This, again, is not new.
The quintessential Vietnam moment was when an American officer
explained how we had to destroy the village in order to save it.
This isn't irony. This is madness. America's unwillingness to
look in the mirror and make amends leaves us blindly striking
out at the world. 9/11 was too short to wake us up, too easily
blamed on others. Iraq, on the other hand, was clearly a war
of our own chosing. If it doesn't lead us to change our ways,
we are truly lost.

Juan Cole raised a bit of a stink when he launched an attack on what
he called "the looney left" in his
posting
on Howard Dean's comments on Iraq -- which Cole dubbed "winning smart in
Iraq." I don't have the exact quote, since after receiving quite a bit of
heat from his readers, Cole subsequently edited his comments. But early
in the debate, he explained:

I'm hoping none of my readership considers itself on the looney
left, so I can't see how any of them could be insulted by the
language. I'm referring to a discourse that always thinks anything the
US or the US military does is always evil and always worse than
anything anyone else could do. When Saddam massacred the Shiites and
put them in mass graves, none of these observers on the far left said
anything at all about it. And, from what they are saying now, a lot of
them couldn't care less if the neo-Baath and the Salafi Jihadis did it
all over again.

Anyway, it is true that people have attacked me simply for urging
that we get most ground troops out, but use air power judiciously to
attempt to forestall a possible resulting hot civil war, which could
become genocidal. Their premise is apparently that any US use of force
is always evil.

There is a fundamental misunderstanding here -- either that or a
fundamental disagreement. But first, let's dispose of two pieces of
toxic rhetoric. First, "looney left" is a phrase that the right uses,
mostly to dispense with the whole left. One reason they use it is that
it has a ring to it -- the "l" words flow evenly, but also because
"looney" suggests that what the left strives for is unrealistic,
impossible even, and that reiterates the right's core position: that
human nature and socio-economic stratification are immutable conditions,
and that any effort to change is foolish, mischievous, and bound to fail
and lead to misery. But also it leaves the user an out. When challenged
with obvious examples of sober, responsible leftists, one can always
refine the definition and argue that one only attacked a subset of
leftists -- you know, the looney ones. Cole's usage is a self-serving
variant on the latter. As a self-described "man of the left" he only
means to tar a subset of the left, but he's using the right's slur to
do it. This is what he got chewed out for, and what he apologized for,
and that's all there is to say about it.

The other piece of toxic rhetoric is the word "evil" -- another key
item in the right's toolkit. I'm not against using the word ever, but
it has the effect of slamming the door on further discussion. In this
context, Cole's assertion -- "Their premise is apparently that any US
use of force is always evil" -- conceals his own premise: that anyone
who rejects the idea that US force could be used beneficially must be
looney. I want to argue that this point isn't a premise. It's a rather
generalized form of a carefully considered conclusion, and it deserves
to be taken seriously. I'd go even further and claim that any leftist
who doesn't take these arguments seriously is bound to get lost.

The argument consists of four pieces:

US foreign policy is not representative of or accountable to
the overwhelming majority of the American people. The stakeholders
are primarily corporations with foreign business interests and the
professional elites who work for them. This selection occurs because
the US political system favors special interests over anything like
a public interest, and rich special interests over poor ones. Plus
the US as a whole, but especially the currently dominant right, buys
the idea that the pursuit of self-interest works out for the best.
Ergo, US foreign policy works primarily for international capital
in its narrow support of profit, and this limits other possible
agendas, including anything so cost-ineffective as humanitarian.

US military and intelligence agencies are not representative
of the American people. They have their own distinct cultures, interests,
and agendas, and these limit what they can do, what they are willing to
do, and how they are willing to do it. They consume tremendous resources,
and are largely able to escape accountability. They are self-protective,
averse to risks, slow when it comes to adopting new tasks. Accordingly,
they do little more than endlessly practice for wars that no one expects
or wants. Consequently, they have little experience in real conflicts,
which they handle crudely given their self-interest.

Militarist foreign policy works against the domestic interests
of the left and in favor of the domestic agenda of the right. Partly
this is because lavish defense support starves domestic welfare, but
it's also because the military exudes an authoritarian, hierarchical
psychology and the shared commitment of war binds us together under
the a supposedly strong leader -- the Führerprinzip, as it used to be
called, or what George Lakoff dubs "the strong father" these days.
The icons of allegiance are exploited as patriotism, which in the US
are increasingly associated with the military. The left, by contrast,
represents the weak, the poor, those who merely work -- characteristics
easily attacked in times of fear.

All acts of war have immense and often unforseen consequences.
They cause collateral damage which is inherently unjust, and as such
the war parties are readily viewed as unjust. They cause environmental
damage, often severe and/or long-lasting. Combatants die, are maimed,
are psychologically scarred. People living in war zones often flee,
their lives disrupted. Children who grow up under war suffer special
hardships and carry the memories for the rest of their lives. Losers
and winners, including non-combatants, are both permanently changed
by war -- one tendency is that winners return to war again and again
until they finally succumb. Even the most justifiable wars exact their
terrible costs. The obvious lesson is that war is to be avoided if at
all possible. The main tool here is the extension of law, based on
universally accepted standards of human rights and justice.

The first three points are specific to the US. While they are deeper
and most likely longer lasting than George W. Bush's presidency, Bush
represents a uniquely dangerous alliance of capital, the military, and
the ideological right, as we've seen from the very beginnings (pre-9/11)
of the administration. The fourth point is universal: recognizing the
horrors and futility of war, committed to justice and human rights,
many leftists regard war as wrong, but also as unworkable. (The latter
point is one that can be elaborated at much greater length than I wish
to do here. One finds, for instance, that revolutions tend to be more
self-destructive the more they are born in violence. One finds that
the communist regimes of the cold war era were more likely to collapse
peacefully the less stringently they were challenged by the US.)

Leftists who understood these points -- the general one about the
dangers of war and the three interrelated ones about the constitution
of American military power -- instinctively recognized that the Bush
invasion and occupation of Iraq would be bad for the left and for all
we stand for. They are therefore the people Cole called "looney" --
I'd argue that more accurate terms are sound, sensible, right. I've
tried to argue this mostly from principles, but one can also make the
same argument from history. US foreign policy has had a dreadful track
record ever since the cold war doctrine began to expand from minimal
containment (e.g., the Korean War), despite the fact that the US has
long had a relatively strong record (with a couple of major blemishes)
of supporting freedom and human rights at home.

None of this depends much on the specifics of Iraq, but of course
the specifics matter as well. The specifics make the difference between
a war that is wrong and bad for us and a war that is disastrous for
everyone involved. Cole is an expert in this history, and to his credit
found reason enough to oppose the war before the fact. It should also
be noted that he has always argued to reduce and resolve the conflict,
and that even his proposals that countenance the use of US air power
are intended as nothing more than a hedge against a reasonable fear
of greater bloodshed in its absence. (I find those proposals to be
rather fanciful in that they presume that US air power can be used
impartially -- something that I'd argue is impossible given present
orientations of US political and military power -- and without too
much collateral damage. I also suspect that the likelihood of greater
civil war once the US leaves is somewhat less than Cole evidently
expects, but I can't argue that based on expertise -- it's more of
an intuition of how politics works.)

My four pieces of the argument can be developed much more extensively.
I don't, for instance, argue that capital is the sole director of US
foreign policy, and I especially don't believe that the capitalists'
interests are homogeneous. In particular, most international business
would be better off with less war -- even the armaments companies are
likely to enjoy the treat of war more than the real thing. Similarly,
while international business and the ideological right overlap, they
are by no means the same. Many businessmen are liberals, and in many
ways liberalism suits their interests much better than the right does.
Also, I believe that Bush, Cheney, et al. belong not to capital -- the
top two have proven to be astonishingly bad businessmen -- or to the
military or even to the right, but instead are political sceamers who
have taken charge of the right's political machinery and miscalculated
their way into Iraq and other disasters. (Ronald Reagan was easily as
misguided and deluded as Bush, but at least was inept enough not to
shoot himself.)

My point here is that the "looney left" isn't looney at all. Our
distrust in Bush and Cheney was justified. Our distrust in the US
military was justified. Our expectation that Iraqis would resist US
occupation was justified, as was our expectation that their resistance
would provoke the US to make matters worse. Our expectation that the
US military, and eventually the American people, would grow weary of
this pointlessly tragic war was justified. Our expectation that when
the US finally quits Iraq we will do so with the same bitterness and
disdain we showed in leaving Vietnam may well be justified as well.
Admittedly, it was easy for us to see these things, because we know
all too well that George W. Bush isn't our president, and that the
army he sent to Iraq isn't our army. We know in fact that Washington
DC is occupied by an alien government that doesn't represent us and
isn't dedicated to our welfare and freedom. So we don't have any big
problems understanding what's going on, because we already understood
it.

Not everyone on the left has been able to see clearly through this
war. This usually means that the leftist still buys into some part of
the deal. This could be a residual faith in the benevolence of the
US government, or it could be sympathy with some segment of the Iraqi
people, or it could be the belief that Salafi-Jihadists like Al-Qaeda
are such enemies to human rights that aligning with Bush is preferable.
The latter position, which includes people like Christopher Hitchens,
is pretty easy to dismiss: it starts with an unrealistic estimate of
the threat, based more on Islamophobia than anything else, then aligns
with forces only capable of turning their fears into self-fulfilling
prophecy. The overwhelming majority of Muslims want war no more than
anyone else does. It's only the presence of foreign occupiesr who give
the Salafi-Jihadists any credible claim to defend Islamic world.

The other positions are naïve but otherwise hard to dismiss. Any
leftist working within the US political system necessarily invests
some faith in that system. This has much to do with why Democratic
politicians have had such trouble formulating any sort of opposition
to Bush's war. It's easy for someone like me, with no power and no
responsibility, to advocate a clean break from the conflict, but
it's real hard for someone trying to establish a credible claim to
lead the country -- someone like Howard Dean or John Kerry -- to
argue that US policy should be changed to recognize the clear fact
that the US government cannot be trusted in Iraq. (There's a big rat
hole we could go down here relating to what the Democrats' anti-war
strategy should be. On the other hand, the actual strategy -- what
Dean referred to as an emerging consensus -- is likely to be based
on the Murtha resolution, which means to salvage the military and
the Al-Qaeda focus of the War on Terror. I think that misses all
the big points, but it still may be good tactics. At least, Murtha
would pull the frying pan away from the fire.)

I have less sympathy for the sympathizers -- the soft-hearted
liberals who make up most of the left -- not so much because I
disapprove as because I find it embarrassing how easily they can
be taken for suckers. Iraqis have had problems for a long time
now, and Saddam Hussein has been responsible for many of those
problems. But Bush is singularly unqualified to be of any help.
His attitude toward democracy should have been clear from the
2000 Florida recount, following his record-setting attempt to buy
the election. His view of freedom is clear from the USA PATRIOT
Act, his gulags, his torture edicts. His commitment to women's
rights takes a back seat to his membership in the anti-abortion
jihad. His own sympathy for human suffering? Even when faced with
events as apolitical as natural disasters, he's never been moved
by the news -- only by the polls afterwards, and the opportunity
for reconstruction graft. The Bush war and occupation in Iraq has
been one false step after another, fueled by hidden agendas, spun
by outrageous lies. How anyone could fall for this is beyond me,
especially given that the right has a telling term for liberal
suckers -- "useful idiots."

Of course, the real reason Bush gets away with his faux concern
act is that those well-meaning liberals let their hopes get ahead
of their heads. They see the tragedy, and they don't see any other
relief, so they cling to hopes that, despite all evidence to the
contrary, the US might ultimately have some use in holding still
worse events at bay. Cole is a good example of someone caught in
this trap, all the more so because he knows too much to just hope
for the best. He fears that the sectarian tensions that the US so
exacerbated will, once the US withdraws, flare up into a genocidal
civil war, and he could well be right about that. (I doubt this,
but then compared to him who am I?) So he looks for some agency
that can maintain a modicum of control, and while he would much
prefer the UN he'd settle for the US air force. My problem here
is that the US is still the US, Bush is still Bush, and Bush is
still president of the US. The US can't stay in Iraq and become
a neutral moderator because Bush cannot be neutral -- in general
terms, you can't implement a policy of disinterest, which is what
any "honest broker" policy requires, based on a system devoted to
the pursuit of self-interests.

(We could go down another rat hole here and talk about the
general problem many liberals have in thinking that they ought
to solve other people's problems for them. My own view is that
people have to solve their own problems. Maybe sometimes you can
intervene and point out or enable some solution, but in the end
that only works if the people themselves embrace and implement it.
On the other hand, many problems are created and/or exploited by
outsiders, and can get worse when the outsiders think they're
trying to make things better. In most cases, I'd argue, it would
be better to get out and leave the mess to those who have to live
in it, sad as that may seem. The "you broke it, you fix it" line
fails two critical tests: if you can't fix it, you'll only make
it worse; and once you break something, most people are sensibly
wary of your continuing interest.)

To recap, the people Cole has dubbed "the looney left" are the
part of the left which understood from the beginning that the Bush
war in Iraq could come to no good. We understood that US occupation
would not be received as benign. We understood that it would be
resisted, and America's response to resistance would be to stiffen
it. We understood that America's obsession with killing terrorists,
combined with America's ignorance, would lead to killing others.
We understood that nothing could be reconstructed as long as the
war rages on, and that no amount of hardship imposed on the Iraqi
people would make it stop. We understood that the Iraqis we used
would be viewed as collaborators, and that the longer we stayed
the more people would be tainted. We understood that in the end
the US would have to leave Iraq, and won't be fondly remembered
for its stay. What has happened to Iraq is truly tragic, not least
because it was so easy to predict.

We also understand that the big question isn't what should be
done about the future of Iraq -- not least because we understand
that we can have no positive effect there. Our position is "out
now" because that's a clear, simple, uncompromised position: it
offers a clean separation between the Iraq problem and the rather
larger and more daunting America problem. Iraq may get worse or
better after the US leaves, but at least America won't continue
to be the cause. But any sort of effective disengagement is a
step in the right direction. The American people want out. The
US military wants out. The Iraqi people want the US out. It is
only a matter of time before even someone as stubborn as Bush
cuts his losses and tries to spin some sort of victory storyline
out of retreat. Since "out" is the end state of whatever course
we're trying to stay, "out now" isn't looney -- it's pragmatic.

The other position we could take is "impeach Bush" -- clearly,
nothing the US might attempt to do in Iraq can have any credibility
as long as Bush, so totally identified with the war and its tragic
consequences, remains in power. Dump Bush and Cheney, replace them
with someone new and untainted by the war, and then maybe we can
talk about the US taking positive steps to stabilize Iraq. I have
my doubts -- real reform would have to go far deeper, but maybe
there is a path that points us in the right direction, much like
"redeployment" would point the US military out of Iraq. But at this
point there really isn't much other than leaving that the US can
offer Iraq: we've failed at securing the peace, we've failed at
reconstruction, we've failed at building any sort of economy. For
a nation whose foreign policy ideologues since the early '90s have
been deliriously drunk on their unipolar superpower status, Iraq
has been a bitter come down. The world has in turn learned lessons
about the limits of power, the delusions of arrogance, and the
vulnerability of civilization to revenge against injustice. We
saw this coming from far back. The rest of the left should give
us some credit, and stop throwing insults at us. Now who's looney?

Sometimes you wonder whether even the people who write newspaper
articles comprehend what they're writing. The following appeared in
the Wichita Eagle today:

The Bush administration based a crucial prewar assertion about ties
between Iraq and al-Qaida on detailed statements made by a prisoner
while in Egyptian custody who later said he had fabricated them to
escape harsh treatment, according to current and former officials.

The officials said the captive, Ibn al-Shaykh al-Libi, provided his
most specific and elaborate accounts about ties between Iraq and
al-Qaida only after he was secretly handed over to Egypt by the United
States in January 2002, in a process known as rendition.

In other words, the guy lied to avoid torture, and he got away with
it because he correctly intuited what his interrogators wanted to
hear. But that's not what the writer concluded. The article continues:

The new disclosure provides the first public evidence that bad
intelligence on Iraq may have resulted partly from the
administration's heavy reliance on third countries to carry out
interrogations of al-Qaida members and others detained as part of
U.S. counterterrorism efforts.

In other words, if only al-Libi had been tortured by American
professionals we would have correctly concluded that when he said what
we wanted to hear he was lying. Other interpretations are possible.
One is that torture doesn't really work all that well. Another is that
violating the rule of law -- rendition is, after all, just a euphemism
for kidnapping, and torture is criminal assault -- doesn't pay. But
the problems don't stop with what the U.S. did to al-Libi. Anyone the
least bit interested in truth would have regarded al-Libi's testimony
as suspect and tried to falsify it. But in the Bushworld politics
trumps truth -- that is, after all, the real meaning of taunting the
"reality-based" community.

Congress is currently debating an extension of the USA PATRIOT Act,
which is meant to give the U.S. federal government extraordinary powers
at the expense of our customary liberties. Maybe in some circumstances
some of these powers can be justified, but only if you believe that the
government is firmly in the hands of people who seek truth, who respect
liberty, and who are sensitive to injustice and abuse of power. As long
as George W. Bush is in power that is certainly not the case.

Static Multimedia has posted my
Recycled
Goods column for December 2005. Nothing unusual about this one:
a little bit of everything I cover, with a little more than a few
jazz reissues down in Briefly Noted and Additional Consumer News.
The most pleasant surprise was Blue Note's latest Connoisseur batch --
I even held a couple of those back for a snowy February, including
an A- for Ike Quebec. In comparison, Verve's recent batch of Impulse
LPRs, mostly from the '70s, are period oddities -- interesting, obscure,
good to have in print, but not on the same level.

This column came out a few days late. I got jammed working on
Jazz Consumer Guide, then had to scramble this time. One consequence
was that I shied away from box sets -- traditional Xmas gift items.
I can note that Progressions: 100 Years of Jazz Guitar is
nicely done, but more educational than entertaining, and that the
delayed-release Miles Davis Cellar Door Sessions is much
more Live Evil. In other words, both sets are attractive
to those already attracted. The one box I did get to is Cameo
Parkway. It should be noted somewhere that the box has been
followed by a bunch of individual artist best-ofs, but I don't
have them and haven't heard them. My guess is that they gain in
consistency but I wonder how many of the artists really have the
catalog depth.

Recycled Goods in January will be a one-shot round up of 2005
new releases. I've managed to cover new jazz pretty effectively
this year, although there are still avant-garde labels, especially
in Europe, that do worthwhile work but haven't shared with me. On
the other hand, my coverage of new non-jazz is at something of an
all-time low this year -- I'm trying to catch up, but like most
people not in the loop, I'm sure there are lots of things I won't
hear about until everyone else's lists are compiled. So if you
know about something I really should find out about, pleas let
me know. Old stuff returns to Recycled Goods in February. Last
month I complained about my backlog getting short, but three of
the four majors pitched in. Still would like to hook up with more
independents -- especially those dealing with African music --
but I manage to get more than I have time, so shouldn't complain.

Haven't seen many movies lately, but haven't written about the
few I've seen, so here's some catching up:

Movie: Lord of War. The opening sequence sums the
movie up more economically than the rest does. It starts in a factory
with the manufacture of a bullet -- stamped, assembled, inspected,
packed, shipped, received, unpacked, loaded, fired into the skull
of a teenaged boy, probably in Liberia or Sierra Leone. The subject
here is the arms trade -- especially the arms from the defunct Soviet
empire that flooded into Africa. Nicolas Cage plays a dealer from
New York's Little Odessa with an uncle in the Ukraine Army -- as I
understand it he's a composite of five real arms dealers. (Ethan
Hawke plays a composite of even more Interpol agents, always on
Cage's tail.) Told in flashbacks highlighting Cage's close scrapes
over the years, the seduction of his wife and the destruction of
his brother, whatever action occurs is anomalous -- an inadvertent
breakdown of everyday business, which on rare occasions gives us
a glimpse of the destruction such business facilitates. The dearth
of feeling is both the film's power and weakness -- there is no
human interest here, even of the victims. The visuals, on the
other hand, can be interesting -- aerial shots of Africa, the
remarkable disassembly of an airplane.
B+

Movie: Broken Flowers. Also starts with an opening
sequence, this time tracing the path of a letter through the USPS.
Bill Murray plays a retired computer executive, who in response to
the letter and prodding from nosy neighbor Jeffrey Wright is sent
on a search for four old girlfriends who might have sent the letter --
anonymously, warning of an unknown son assumed to be seeking Murray
out. The four women run the range of possible reactions, almost
stereotypically. More satisfying for its nuances than storyline.
B+

Movie: A History of Violence. One thing you got to
give Hollywood is that they can make violence more attractive than it
ever is in real life. Cafe owner Viggo Mortensen gets pushed too far
three times, and responds with breathtaking accuracy and economy. Of
course, he's got experience, but his son levels a bully with the same
effectiveness. These are dream sequences, and it helps that they happen
quicker than anyone can signal. This is classified as a "thriller,"
but unlike all the others it doesn't dwell on the omens -- it cuts
to the chase. Maria Bello has a very tough role as Mortensen's wife.
She handles it well, and thankfully doesn't have to kill anyone. Ed
Harris and William Hurt get the easy roles as villains, and add
something anyway. Peter MacNeill, as a smalltown sheriff, should be
remembered for Supporting Actor come Oscar time, but won't.
A

Movie: Good Night, and Good Luck. Shot in black and
white, interweaved with newsreel footage of Sen. Joe McCarthy doing
his thing. David Strathairn is note-perfect as Edward R. Murrow, but
his role as McCarthy's nemesis is hard to judge. The self-importance
of the backstage news production always threatens to overwhelm the
story, so merely showing it runs the risk of exposing the hubris the
networks are famous for. In fact, CBS has become such a kick toy for
the right these days that it's hard not to see what's coming when
you watch this. So parallels between then and now cut both ways.
One thing I was struck by was how emphatically Murrow could defend
his own anti-communism -- something that Don Hollenbeck, a newsman
hounded to suicide, could not do. Given how discredited McCarthy is
these days, I came away wondering when someone would come up with
the guts to mount a sympathetic movie in defense of real communists.
Like Ethel and, especially, Julius Rosenberg.
A-

Movie: Capote. Despite growing up in Kansas at the
time, I have no memories of the Clutter Family killing -- only the
occasional references back to the crime, which became vastly more
famous once Truman Capote published In Cold Blood. On the
other hand, I remember Capote's appearances on the Tonight
show rather well -- his voice, his hands, his haughty insistence
that his sympathies were with the victims. Never read the book,
but much later I saw the movie, which covers the killers enough.
So, at least personally, this this movie, by concentrating on a
writer far more enigmatic than his subjects, closes the circle.
Philip Seymour Hoffman has a tough job doing Capote -- he gets the
mannerisms close enough, but is so large compared to Capote that
he comes off as an ungainly monster whereas Capote was more like
a dilletantish dwarf, his mannerisms projected from his body rather
than trapped inside. Moreover, Capote's crippling self-obsession
as the execution looms doesn't quite jive with my remembrance of
him after the book's publication, but perhaps there's something
to it -- as the movie points out, Capote never wrote another book.
Catherine Keener as Harper Lee helps out immensely. Yet despite
the unease I felt at the time, this movie continues to gain
stature in my memory. Saw the trailer for it again later, and
it added to the depth of the movie.
A-

Movie: Paradise Now. A film by Hany Abu-Assad, who
previously did Rana's Wedding. He has a sharp eye for the
everyday hardships of Palestinians under occupation, but he's not
heavy-handed about it, and he's at least as interested in how life
goes on despite the hardships. But this time the problem he tackles
is how to fight back. On one side, there is a woman, the daughter
of a local "martyr," who argues that violence surrenders the moral
high ground. On the other, underground political operatives plot
their response to a previous attack by setting up a suicide bomb
attack in Tel Aviv. In between are two young Palestinian men, the
designated bombers, who get a second chance to think it over when
the original plans go awry. One, Khaled, is caught in the usual
economic trap. The other, Said, is haunted by his father's history
as a collaborator -- a "weakness," for which he was killed. Said
gives a tightly argued speech on why he intends to go through with
the plan -- the key point is to make them feel the pain we feel.
The operatives may be more cynical, or more manipulative, but one
senses they understand the difficulties of the choice all too well.
In the end the screen fades to white -- the focus is on intentions,
not on consequences. Similarly, the Israelis are mere faces without
words -- this is a debate in and of the Palestinians. While those
are fair artistic choices, they are blind politically, in large part
because no possible choice works. Kind of like the trap Israel has
set for the Palestinians.
B+

For the last seven weeks running I've been posting "Jazz Prospecting"
notes each week as I was working on the seventh installment of my Jazz
Consumer Guide column. Over those seven weeks I've slogged through 212
albums looking for items of interest. Found a few -- more than I can
use, actually, so it's good to at least give them some exposure in my
weekly blog postings. But no posting this week, and maybe none next
week. Jazz Consumer Guide #7 is done, edited, scheduled to appear on
or near Dec. 14. Last week I shifted gears to work on the December
Recycled Goods column -- late, but real close to done now and should
be up later this week -- so wouldn't have much to report on this week
anyway.

I've also put off updating the website for another week or so,
as I restructure the Jazz Consumer Guide files. Aside for the blog
posts, the rest of the website is batch-updated, which is trouble
when things are up in the air. Music writing continues to suck up
nearly every available cycle. I was hoping that after RG I'd get
a chance to work on the book project, but coming up over the next
two months: a year-end jazz top ten for the Voice, a year-end special
new record roundup for Recycled Goods in January, my annual Pazz &
Jop ballot and screed, a piece on Sheila Jordan for the Voice, yet
another Jazz Consumer Guide, and a return to reissues for Recycled
Goods in February. The only good news is that I have about half of
the latter two columns done at this point.

Music: Current count 11337 [11312] rated (+25), 841 [857] unrated (-16).
Jazz CG in, edited, done, should be out week after next. Recycled Goods
complete pending edit, should be up in a few days. Next RG will be year
end round-up of 2005 new albums, a change of pace. February RG returns to
usual formula. On the way I need to write a jazz top ten for the Voice.
Also plan to write something on Sheila Jordan for Voice. Reorganizing
Jazz CG files, moving them into their own directory. Not much jazz
prospecting last week, so I'll hold what I have there back for another
week. Actually hoping to start doing some non-music writing this
coming week.

The Appalachians (1927-2003 [2005], Dualtone): Front
cover adds, "A companion to the public television series." Mix of old
stuff and cheap stuff from the label's catalog that mostly sounds like
old stuff. Documentation is trivial and relatively useless. Songs by
Jimmie Rodgers, the Carter Family, Blind Alfred Reed, etc., are classic
but available elsewhere.
B

Cameo Parkway 1957-1967 (1956-67 [2005], Abkco, 4CD):
Bernie Lowe's label scored over 100 chart singles during its decade,
but the most striking thing about this 115-song collection is how
much it all sounds like something else. This is partly because Allen
Klein, who picked up the defunct label in 1968, has been sitting on
it all this time. But it's mostly because Lowe, lyricist Kal Mann,
and producer Dave Appell were masters of derivation. Nor did they
specialize: they did big band swing, crooners, teen idols, doo-wop,
rockabilly, girl group, dance anthems, folkies, mariachi, cowboy,
bubblegum, punk, spoken word novelties, you name it. Typical is the
label's biggest star: named for his Fats Domino impression, Chubby
Checker took Hank Ballard's "The Twist" to the top of the charts --
twice, not counting its derivatives and variants. Checker's heyday
was the label's prime, in large part because the doo-wop and girl
groups and dance crazes were such maleable formulae. The label faded
fast when the Brits invaded and Motown crested, and Lowe sold out in
1965. The final third here is only sporadically interesting, with
novelties like Senator Bobby's "Wild Thing" before the corporate
shell discovered its last #1 hit in Flint, "96 Tears," as part of
a regional search that netted Bob Seger's James Brown impersonation
on "Sock It to Me Santa." One could argue that there's a real good
album buried somewhere in this mess, but historians of a certain
age and temperament will be delighted to have it all. (I, for one,
am thrilled to hear "Wolverton Mountain" again.) On the other hand,
youngsters and prudes and the supercilious will be dismayed. Those
were the days when popular culture was meant to be trashy.
B+

The Very Best of Canned Heat (1967-73 [2005],
Capitol): the most devoted of America's blues rock bands back in
the day when American rockers were just discovering the blues locked
away in their closets; two freak hits from 1968, three cuts from
Monterey Pop in 1967, two cuts from best album Future Blues,
three cuts from the period when Bob Hite tried to carry on after
Alan Wilson died, one with Little Richard. B+(***)

Rosanne Cash: The Very Best of Rosanne Cash
(1979-2003 [2005], Columbia/Legacy):
Nepotism was suddenly fashionable in the election year of Bush vs.
Gore, but after years of Eugene Scalia and Michael Powell, not to
mention GWB, a backlash is overdue. Rosanne certainly benefitted
from her dad's experience and connections, not to mention branding,
but she had her own sound early -- she hopped from country to pop
without wasting a minute on countrypolitan -- and developed into
a thoughtful songwriter. Her albums from 1985's Rhythm and
Romance through 1993's The Wheel are as well crafted
and smartly observed as anyone's, and Rules of Travel lost
very little despite the ten year gap. As with most album artists,
a best-of that skips lightly around two decades of work misses as
much as it hits. But having proved her independence, she welcomes
her father back for a guest duet.
A-

All Over the World: The Very Best of Electric Light
Orchestra (1973-2001 [2005], Epic/Legacy):
Forget "Evil Woman" -- or better still, imagine it was prophetically
about Thatcher, and don't sweat the details, since the whiney lyrics
are belied by the music anyway. The concept here is a rock band with
dancing cellos and falsetto vocals, but it wouldn't work if ex-Move
songwriter Jeff Lynne didn't have a knack for cheap hooks as well as
flagrantly over-the-top arrangements. It all comes together in "Don't
Bring Me Down," as exuberant a piece of popcraft as anything released
in the early '70s. Nothing else works so completely, but half-baked
genius follows -- the proto-disco "Turn to Stone," the post-Pepper
"Diary of Horace Wimp," the Move-to-Queen missing link "Rockaria!,"
the trademarkable "Strange Magic." Lynne's a rock and roller -- the
strings are an extravagance -- but curiously when he indulges them
he sounds most like Dave Edmunds. Their songbook runs out before the
disc does, but this is more fun than any other '70s prog band.
A-

John Fogerty: The Long Road Home (1969-2005
[2005], Fantasy):
The first fruit of Fogerty's reconciliation with Fantasy Records is
that he gets his early records back, and that stabilizes a career
retrospective that would be skimpy otherwise. The numbers tell the
story: sixteen Creedence Clearwater Revival songs, including two
new remakes, vs. nine post-Creedence songs, again including two
new remakes. Still, they're all written by Fogerty, all of a piece.
The biggest surprise for me are remakes of two songs from Fogerty's
eponymous 1975 album -- I missed that one, but know the songs well
from other artists, never realizing that what sounded like vintage
rock and roll classics had been penned by the man whose every new
song back in 1969-70 sounded like a long-lost timeless classic.
The difference between the old songs and the live remakes is sonic:
the old ones sound more relaxed, weary even, and thinner, while the
remakes are more immediate and urgent. The post-Creedence songs fit
in -- he's not a guy who's evolved much. So I wouldn't recommend
this over a superb Creedence collection like Chronicle, but
not by much.
A

Lightnin' Hopkins: Prestige Profiles (1960-64
[2005], Prestige): the first and thus far only artist on Prestige's
Bluesville label to be included in this series; past his prime,
but while he changed with the fashions, he never changed much,
and age just sharpened his features; prolific as always -- this
reduces a 7-CD box, but doesn't improve it much. B+

Bob Marley & the Wailers: Africa Unite: The Singles
Collection (1970-80 [2005], Island/Chronicles):
Marley eventually got the recognition he deserved. Maybe even more.
A search at an internet retailer lists over 300 Marley titles. His
best known best-of, Legend, has sold over ten million copies.
For many he not only is reggae, he's all that reggae is. Quite an
accomplishment for a guy who died at 36. The discography isn't all
that complicated: Marley cut his first song as a teenager for Leslie
Kong. He joined Peter Tosh, Bunny Livingston, and others to form a
group soon called the Wailers, and recorded for Coxsone Dodd's Studio
One from 1963-66, cutting two classics, "Simmer Down" and "One Love."
The group split, then reformed in 1968, working with Lee Perry's
Upsetters. They moved to Tuff Gong in 1971, then signed with Chris
Blackwell's Island Records for U.K. and U.S. distribution. Island
released ten Bob Marley & the Wailers albums -- the first two,
before Tosh and Livingston split, as the Wailers. One source of
confusion here is that Marley's early-'70s albums were released
separately in Jamaica and on Island -- the Jamaican albums have
been recompiled by Trojan, overlapping Island. Still, the majority
of in-print Marley albums are redundant Studio One and Upsetters
reissues, and while those records can't be dismissed, it's safe
to say that had Marley died before Catch a Fire came out
in 1973, he'd be less famous today than Alton Ellis. Even within
the Island series Marley's fame lagged his accomplishments. The
first two albums with Tosh and Livingston were extraordinary, and
the first solo album, Natty Dread (1974) was even better,
but the first U.S. hit was the relatively lackluster Rastaman
Vibration (1976). The rest of the studio albums were solid or
better. The second live album was so-so, but the first was a
revelation, demonstrating that what truly made Marley unique was
his ability to transplant reggae into the arenas of Babylon. When
Marley died in 1981, his acclaim kept growing. A posthumous scraps
album appeared in 1983 with a fine single, "Buffalo Soldier," then
a canonical collection of U.K. singles, Legend appeared in
1984. Subsequent efforts to compile him, including the Songs of
Freedom box, never added much. But the endless search for more
product gives us another singles-based collection, duplicating 12
of Legend's 14 or 16 cuts. The bait includes four pre-Island
singles (available on Trojan's Trenchtown Rock anthology),
an outtake from 1979, and two remixes -- none of which improve on
the missing "Redemption Song." So this is redundant and mostly
superfluous, but what else is new?
A-

The Best of Shel Silverstein: His Words, His Songs, His
Friends (1965-85 [2005], Columbia/Legacy): A few songs he
wrote and performed ("A Front Row to Hear Ole Johnny Sing"), more
he wrote and others sung ("A Boy Named Sue," "Freakin' at the
Freakers' Ball, "Cover of the Rolling Stone"), spoken bits from
his children's books (A Light in the Attic); any of these
might be worth exploring on its own, but together they're merely
scattershot.
B

Studio One Women (1966-81 [2005], Soul Jazz):
Ten (or more) albums into in Soul Jazz's Studio One series, this may
be no more than a way of grouping obscurities that didn't make it into
any of the extant categories -- Ska, Roots,
Rockers, Scorchers, Funk, etc.
B+